


Starting Again

by ultraviolence



Category: Abarat Series - Clive Barker, BARKER Clive - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3933127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Candy Quackenbush and Christopher Carrion met by accident, and the one time it wasn't. Modern!Abarat, AU. Fluff, angst, and drama, with a little bit of humour. T for casual murder threats and mentions of (non-explicit) murder and child abuse. Completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The missing wi-fi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they met was when Carrion's wi-fi went missing and his new neighbour made ungodly noises. The two things were apparently related, and certain revelations occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt for the first chapter [here](http://thanatologicals.tumblr.com/post/116895070444/aus-id-love-to-see). Enjoy!

Christopher Carrion was _not_ having a good day.

It was his self-professed day off and he was planning to take it easy for a bit, to do what every ordinary Abaratian do (though he's not an "ordinary Abaratian, mind) and stream some movies on his laptop, with a glass of finest Gorgossian wine that he, ah, _borrowed_ from his grandmother’s personal cellar. It’s not as if she held a lot of dinner parties (the idea of _his grandmother_ and _dinner parties_ are just too amusing to miss), or had any personal use of them. No, the wine was better off in Carrion’s hands.

He had safely procured the wine, his favourite armchair was waiting, he had turned on his laptop, and yet…and yet, the wretched wi-fi won’t work. In the past five minutes, he had restarted his laptop (black, the colour of his soul, and personally made for the Lord of Midnight from Rojo Pixler himself, though he disliked the man immensely and most of his technologies), cursed at it in Old Abaratian (with a couple of words that would shame even the Old Hag of Gorgossium), checked the router, and maybe, just maybe, even tried to coax it a bit with magic. Nothing harmful, just a little flick of the hand to make it work.

Still, none of it was working, and after ten minutes, Carrion was close to calling Houlihan and ordered him to murder Pixler in the most painful way imaginable, since he is clearly the man responsible behind all this. He was already unlocked his mobile phone and was about to speed-dial his trusted assassin when he remembered that this little hideout (in Scoriae, since obviously Carrion doesn’t want to leave the Night islands) was supposed to be a _secret_. He procured another curse word from his long list of vocabulary (which has been specifically designed to barb other people with as much insult as possible with as little effort as necessary) and put away his phone with a scowl. Then he gestured for a shadow-servant to pour him a glass of wine and crash down on his armchair.

“What now?” He thought out loud, rather morosely, sipping his wine. He had a long, nice evening day ahead of him with nothing much to do. While he purposefully designed the hideout and the time-off with this purpose in mind (everything Carrion do is _always_ purposeful), he never planned to spend it sitting around, staring at the wall. He supposed he could think out new nightmares, or figure out new kinds of fear to feed his nightmare-pets back at the Twelfth Tower of the Iniquisit, or even perhaps write poetry, which he haven’t done in a while…

Unfortunately, Carrion’s prized silence doesn’t last long.

Loud music came from the direction of one of his neighbors (he presumed, and there’s not many of them, Scoriae isn’t exactly booming in the Abaratian real estate industry), _very loud_ , _very obnoxious_ music (very much so, since Carrion specifically designed his hideout to be very private and keep unwanted noises, also people, out), followed by what sounds like dialogue, and then giggles.

 _Giggles_. On Carrion’s _day off_.

Clearly, this is unacceptable. He struggled to maintain his temper, since all he wanted to do is to immediately storm their house and take no prisoners, _literally_ , but instead he put his wine down and maintained his composure. Then he slowly rises from his seat, listening to the sounds very closely.

There are two of them, judging from the sounds of the voices and giggles (bit hard to listen to since the movie drowned the other noises, but Carrion has very good ears). One girl, the other sounds like a male. And it doesn’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon, unless someone put the fear of God in them. And that _someone_ is going to be _Carrion_.

In one fluid, graceful move, he collected his coat from the rack and went out to the direction of the offending neighbor’s house. It was right next door, thus a short walk, but the odd thing is that he could have sworn that it was empty last week. Now there are several potted plants (Night islands’ plants, of course) in the porch (on the contrary, his porch was as Spartan and impersonal as possible) and obvious signs of life from the house itself. Carrion took one glance at the house and rang the bell.

Patiently, _very_ patiently, he waited.

There was no answer. If anything, it feels like the sounds from inside the house are growing louder. He scowled, cursed under his breath, and rang the bell again. Still no answer. He was half-tempted to just kick the door open and murder the people inside, but instead he gritted his teeth and pressed the bell for the third time.

This time, it worked. He could hear the loud noise stopped for a moment, then a quick exchange of words between the offending parties (sounds heated, he noted, and smiled mentally) before a series of footsteps arrived. The footsteps got louder and louder before the front door finally opened, and out came a rather plain-looking girl.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting!” She exclaimed, forcing her feet into a pair of gaudy-coloured sandals before going into the driveway and towards him, running a little. “I was showing Malingo Star Wars and I guess we were getting a little too excited.” She smiled, a little out of breath. “How long have you-“ She raised her gaze, finally reaching him, and stopped abruptly. “Oh.”

“Is that any way to greet your neighbour?” Carrion chided, smiling sarcastically. Oh, this is going to be _great_.

“No, I- I’m just…a little surprised.” She admitted sheepishly. “That’s all.”

“Why?” He asked, despite being pushed by the rational part of him to just tell her what he needed to tell her and get it over with.

“You’re the…you’re the neighbour. Next door, I mean.” She was shuffling on her heels nervously, offering him a small smile. She was not so plain after all, he realised – her eyes were different colours, and she was actually quite pretty, despite the wild and unruly hair.

“No, I’m the postman.” He replied, with a smug smile. “Good job stating the obvious, girl.”

What seems like a flash of annoyance cross her features, but she quickly kept it under control. “You’re not around that much, you know…so don’t blame me if I’m surprised.”

“Well, I’m here _now_.” The Prince of Midnight retorted, crossing his arms. She was starting to annoy him. “And I’m here to mention _certain disturbances_ in this neighbourhood tonight, including some very loud noises, coming from this direction.”

Evidently, Carrion had managed to rile her up again (which he took pleasure in), since the same flash of annoyance that had just crossed her features a moment ago made its appearance again. This time, she didn’t try to contain it.

“You could just tell me _nicely_.” She crossed her arms as well, glaring at him. But no one could out-glare the Lord of Gorgossium (in fact most who tried has met rather grisly ends, or they just start groveling for mercy on the floor), so after a few seconds, she gave up and sighed. “Alright, alright, you win. I’m sorry about the noise. I’ll tune it down.”

“There. Isn’t that _wonderful_ to hear?” Carrion paused, giving the girl a full taste of his most arrogant, self-satisfied smile. “Causing _disturbances_ isn’t very _neighbourly_ of you, is it? Especially on an evening like this one.”

She started to glare at him again, but put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, I won’t do that again, if that’s what you mean. Don’t you have anything else to do other than scolding and glaring at your neighbours?”

“As it turned out, my wi-fi isn’t working, so, no.” He retorted flatly. Now that he’d achieved his objective, he was supposed to lose interest, since there’s nothing more this girl can offer him, and if anything, she annoyed him supremely (not to mention that she rather remind him of a certain someone he’d rather forget), but somehow, somehow, something about her intrigued him. He’s not sure what, or _why_.

“Your wi-fi isn’t…oh. _Oh_. Crap.” A look of dawning realization crossed her features, and quickly replaced by horror. Carrion liked that particular look, liked to be the cause of it, but now he’s not sure what or why, so he just stared at her blankly.

At that moment, the other person decided to check on her.

“Candy, is everything okay out there? What took you so long?” Her friend, or whoever it was, shouted at the girl from inside the house. She glanced sidelong at him, and then at the front door, which she’d left open, before shouting back a reply.

“I’m okay, Malingo! I was just…talking. I’ll be back soon. Sorry to keep you waiting!” 

“Who are you talking to?” Her friend was getting closer, because his voice has gotten louder. Carrion suppressed the desire to roll his eyes. Maybe he should be going now.

“Well. It was nice talking to you, but I have to go now.” He said to her, briskly, and was about to turn back and left when she caught hold of his coat through the fence.

“W- wait, I have something to tell you!” She blurted out, and promptly released his coat when she noticed that he was glaring at her rather balefully. “Just…hold on for a bit, okay? I’ll be back!”

Then she raced back towards the house and was gone, at least for the moment. He stared at the vacant space where she was before, considering the many perks of just leaving right now. Still, he was curious, and intrigued – never a good combination for the most powerful man in Abarat (or at least, in the top 5). Thus, against all odds, Carrion stayed, arms folded. There was plenty of noise from the house – an argument is breaking out, from the sound of it – plenty of hullabaloos, before a relative quiet descends, and the girl called Candy raced out of the house once more.

“Oh, good.” She said immediately after seeing him, catching her breath. “You’re still here.”

“This better be important.” He remarked, rather imperiously. She returned that with a scowl.

“Is that how you treat _your_ neighbour? Not very _neighbourly_ , is it?”

“That’s beside the point, girl.” He was starting to regret his decision of staying. Had he left, he’d be in the relative safety of his hideout right now, sipping wine while lounging on his armchair. “Now _speak_.”

Her expression soured. “If that’s how you’re going to treat me, then I guess our conversation is done. And don’t ‘girl’ me, my name is Candy. Candy Quackenbush.”

“Well…you _are_ a girl, aren’t you?” Carrion was getting real tired of this exchange at this point. If she was going to be hard, then so be it. He had no time to deal with that. Perhaps if he discovered that he’s still curious after all, after he left her in the middle of this stupid and pointless exchange, he’s just going to send the Criss-Cross Man after her and be done with it. “What kind of name _is_ Candy Quackenbush, besides?”

Now she glared at him, really glared at him, not caring that she was a great deal shorter than him and, although for some curious reason she exude the air of a magic user, he could absolutely take her out. She was real brave, this girl. Although he loathed admitting it, Carrion took a liking at this girl. She was too brave for her own good, but perhaps that’s part of what makes her so intriguing.

“The kind of name my mother gave me! Hasn’t anybody taught you that it’s rude, insulting people’s names like that?” She let out a puff of anger. “And to think that _you_ doubted that I am a girl…” She trailed off, then seemed to have forgotten that she was mad at all, and instead remembering something else in place. “I haven’t even caught your name!”

“What, in the name of Hell, exactly are you going to tell me? I can’t stand here all day listening to you babble about unimportant things.” He immediately cut into the chase, irritated that he got carried away in her little tangent. She looked rather shocked by his forwardness, but it was quickly replaced by a determined look.

“If you’re going to be like _that_ , then I guess it can’t be helped.” She glared at him for another moment (which Carrion countered with a glare of his own) before continuing. She looked apologetic now. “It’s about your wi-fi, actually…”

“What about it?” He snapped. If he had to endure this madness just one second longer, he’s going to dial Houlihan, his little secret be damned. He could made his servant shut up, besides – it’s not as if the assassin was not afraid of the Lord of Midnight.

“Well, you weren’t here that much, or at least last week, since I just moved in last week, and I…I, uh…” She bit her lip. “I _might_ have used your wi-fi. A little. Nothing major, of course, just downloading a couple of movies!”

At this revelation, Carrion gritted his teeth and shot her his most hateful, Prince of Darkness-y look. He doesn’t even waste time to be shocked, he should have known that this little upstart has something to do with the disappearance of his wi-fi connection.

“How much is a _couple_?” He asked through clenched teeth, trying his very best not to strangle her with his bare hands _right here, right now_. If only he’d brought his nightmare pets with him, then this is probably the right moment to sic them on her. Alas, he’d left them at Gorgossium, at the care of his servants.

“Not- not much! Just about…ten? Fifteen? Malingo has probably downloaded some of his own…”

The innocence of her expression disgusts him. He straightened himself up, determined to put the fear of God (or, in this case, Christopher Carrion) in her once and for all. The fact that he managed to keep this conversation rather civil so far astonished even himself.

“Why don’t you use your _own_ wi-fi?” He’s looming at her from the other side of the fence now, using his height and his regal, fearsome bearing to his full advantage. All the black he’s wearing helps. The girl called Candy cowered in fear soon as the question is out, and Carrion allowed himself a smug smile, but only mentally. Perhaps this isn’t going as bad as he had predicted it to be. Perhaps.

“I said I’m sorry, okay!” Sadly, she doesn’t cower in fear for long, because she quickly risen up again, obviously determined to put this right. “I’m sorry, I won’t do that again, and obviously we get off the wrong foot, but-“

“Do that again, and I’ll cut your head off and feed the remains to my dogs. Better yet, I’ll feed you to my _nightmares_.”

With nothing else to say, and one last menacing glare, Christopher Carrion turned back and started to walk away.

“Wait!” She yelled, and despite all his reservations and hatred, Carrion turned to look, and saw that she was standing on tip-toes (so she could see him over the fence) with her hands cupped around her mouth to amplify her voice. “Wait! We don’t have to get off the wrong foot. I didn’t even get your name yet!”

She looked so hopeful, standing there, hands around her mouth, her gaze wide and trusting. She reminded him of- _no_. He shook his head, more to himself than to the girl. He really should get going now, and his conscience hasn’t been listened to in a long time, but somehow it felt so _wrong_ , leaving her like that. He doesn’t know why, but it felt wrong. He stopped walking, and turned around to face her, defenses melting away. For what feels like the longest time, he doubted (that in itself is something new, because the Lord of Midnight doesn’t doubt himself) about telling her his name, about telling her who he _is_.

Against everything he’d been taught, against everything he tried to forget and put behind him, against everything that had _hurt_ him -- his expression softened.

“Christopher. Christopher Carrion.”

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it (and for a brief moment he wondered if she’s _that_ clueless). Instead, she clasped her hands together happily.

“That’s all settled then! It’s really nice to meet you. I hope we can start again and-“ She paused, giving him the brightest smile he’d seen so far. “-and be good neighbours, Mr. Carrion!”

“As long as you promise never to use my wi-fi again, or to watch movies very loudly, I suppose it’s going to be fine. I hope.”

Despites _despites_ , he felt a small smile forming on his lips. This is going to be _very interesting_ , at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stealing the wi-fi was Mischief's idea. For the purpose of this AU, and since everyone deserves happiness, let's say that Mater Motley is not as...abusive as in canon. She's still _the_ Old Hag, and more than a little demented, but she's not as evil as she is in canon. Probably still planning the Absolute Midnight, though. Candy still hails from the Hereafter. I'm an absolute trash for this pairing, and I'd really love to develop their relationship in a modern AU where nothing hurts (well, sort of), so I turned this into a legit series. Comments and suggestions welcome!


	2. The parallel parking problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time they met was when Candy accidentally hit someone else's car when she tried to parallel park in Efreet. That car belongs to someone she knew, and he wasn't very happy about it, or seeing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt [here](http://thanatologicals.tumblr.com/post/116895070444/aus-id-love-to-see). Enjoy!

Candy Quackenbush was having a rather lovely day at the island of Efreet.

In the days before Abarat’s reformation, she read, Efreet was truly a bleak place, populated by man-eating beasts and nothing but snow-covered forest for miles. What little people that populated the island lives a harsh life, and more often than not, they were driven to extinction, as the ruins of Koy will readily testify. It might sit at six in the morning, but instead of inspiring hope it rather inspires despair, if what she read are true.

She tried to imagine how it feels like, back then, with nothing but the wind howling all around her and snow crunching underneath her boots. She could almost hear the cries of the famed beasts of Efreet if she tried hard enough. It must have felt so… _quiet_ , back then, she imagined. Without all the noise and lights that characterise the Abarat (or at least, most of it) and the Hereafter, what would it be like?

But that was then. Now the island of Efreet is a proud republic, its cities are alive with noise and lights and people (though it’s rather quiet compared to the hustle and bustle of the Babilonium, or even Scoriae), and the beasts are but ink on paper on the history books. She liked how its position influenced its culture – at six in the morning, it’s not quite a Night island, but not quite a Day island, either, and the people of Efreet wear that as a badge of honour. Candy had seen things that she’d normally seen in the Day islands such as the Nonce, but here and there, the influence of the Night shows through (for example, the rather austere houses – Day architecture are more gaudy and colourful, while the Night islands, fittingly, preferred dark colours and function over form).

She was driving through Morhurst, which stood near the ruins of Coy, and serves as the capital city and the first and foremost of the four cities of Efreet. Candy was here to visit some friends of hers, which she met by chance during her travels. She hadn’t been to Morhurst either, so that’s a plus. She’d liked what she’d seen so far, and the drive was rather quiet and soothing, especially after all the chaos at Babilonium. She shuddered mentally at the thought – she would never, ever try to drive in Babilonium _again_.

Malingo was supposed to be the one who’s driving, but, as in Babilonium, their tastes differed sometimes, so he went to the ruins of Koy first while she went for sightseeing in the capital city. The ruins interest her, of course, but she will see that another day. In the meanwhile, she wanted to enjoy the drive through Morhurst.

After driving for a while, she spotted a rather nice park, and since she was feeling pretty sleepy (six AM will do that to you), she decided to stop by for a bit and maybe take a walk. It was quite deserted except for another car, which has beaten her to parking by only a couple of minutes. She decided to park in front of the other car.

Except that it quickly turned into disaster. Perhaps it’s the sleepiness, or perhaps there’s always some innate clumsiness in her that will incite disaster sooner or later (which probably one of the reasons why her father hate her so much), but one second she’s trying to park her rental car, the other…well, she accidentally but not so-subtly bumped the other car. And not so…mild, too, judging from the look of it. She winced at that. This will cause her a _lot_ of trouble.

And sure enough, the driver of the car she hit lowered their window. He was an unpleasant looking-man, she thought, which made her wince all the more, what’s with the scars crisscrossing on his cheek and whatnot. He definitely looked like someone you don’t mess with.

“Hey, girl! Don’t you know _whose_ car this is that you just hit? Can you even drive at all? Huh?”

She steeled herself before lowering her window, too. Lordy Lou, this is going to get ugly. She could only hope that the man let her off the hook with as little verbal demolishing as possible. After all, she had to make amends to the rental company, which leased her this car. And all the paperworks she’s going to fill…she wanted to groan out loud at the mere thought of that.

“I’m really sorry about that! This was an accident, I swear…um,” She bit her lip nervously. “Do you want my details? I’d take responsibility and compensate you fairly for the damage.”

She wasn’t sure if she should step out of the car now, but the other party had exited the car and, with as much rage as he could possibly muster, slammed the door behind him shut. A’zo and Cha, she should probably get out there _now_.

“That’s not really the problem, isn’t it?” He’s half-shouting now, striding quickly towards her. Candy looked around and found that the area around them was pretty much deserted. She flinched, but she wouldn’t let it intimidate her. “You’d just hit my Lord’s car, you little batrat, I should have cut you down and skinned you alive right now for that offense-“

“Look, Mister.” Candy felt the familiar flare of anger welling up inside her, ready to burst, as she exited the car and slammed the door behind her. “I’m terribly sorry, and I said it was an accident, and I would have gladly compensate for the damage. I don’t know who your lord is, but I offer him an apology, as much as I’d offer an apology to you, too.” He was staring at her like an enraged animal, and Candy knew that she was supposed to be afraid, but she wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated. She’s going to stand her ground. “I don’t think it merits being skinned alive, don’t you think?”

“I should just skin you alive right now instead of wasting my time with words, girl!" 

That being said, the man produced a dagger and would be at her in an instant if not for the arrival of the third voice, coming from the direction of the other car.

“Enough.” The familiar voice, which took her a while to process in her state of shock, interrupted the exchange with just a single word, yet with such a force behind it that the man who was about to attack Candy stop dead in his tracks and put away his dagger. Then the owner of the voice lowered his window further, and Candy could see him.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Candy Quackenbush.”

Christopher Carrion was sitting there in the back of the car, the car she’d just hit by happenstance (and clumsiness, curse her clumsiness), and he was smiling at her in that sarcastic manner of his that she’d come to think of as very Carrion-y. And the way he said her name made her think of all those old-timey villains in all those old-timey cartoons she used to watch when she was a child in the Hereafter. She’s not certain whether to laugh or cry, so she just went through with the first thing that popped up into her head. 

“What are you doing here?” She blurted out, rather ungracefully, and, judging from the way his henchman was glaring at her, _impolitely_. One does not address the Prince of Gorgossium in such casual and familiar terms, of course, but at the moment, Candy could care less.

“The same question could be applied to you. What are _you_ doing here?” Speaking from experience, she half-expected him to start glaring daggers at her anytime now, or gave her a tirade about how much in the wrong she was, especially against royalty, but he was the very picture of calm. It’s almost disquieting just how calm he was regarding all this. Candy felt a chill coming.

“I was enjoying the sights before your-“ She made sure to give his henchman a dirty look, which he promptly returned with one of his own, before glancing back towards Carrion. “Before your _chaperone_ threatened to murder me.”

The man in question started to protest, but Carrion silenced him with a glare.

“Is this what you usually do?” She continued, seeing an opening. “Going around, threatening everyone who accidentally hit your car with _murder_?”

“Everyone needs a hobby.” The prince countered quickly. “And that’s Houlihan’s. Come, Otto, get into the car. I can deal with this girl.” He gestured towards his henchman – apparently his name was Otto Houlihan, and Candy wasn’t sure where she heard that name before but she shuddered – to get back into the car and the man in question started to protest again, but Carrion shot him another of his deathly glare, and he quickly shut up and do as he was told. Candy watched the scene unfolding with interest.

“I’m here, you know. You don’t need to talk about me as if I’m not here.” She said, rather sourly, more than a little annoyed because they were talking about her as if she’s not there. It really gets on her nerve when people do that to her, be it her friends or Carrion.

“Well you’re not here that often.” She immediately knows what he’s referring to, and her expression darkens.

“You don’t have to bring that up. I thought that we’d put it behind us.”

“ _We_? So it’s _we_ now?” He was trying to rile her up, she knows, and so far it’s working. She doesn’t know why she’s still putting up with him, after their first encounter on Scoriae. Lordy Lou, she doesn’t even know _why_ she offered a second chance in the first place. He annoyed her so much, she wanted to punch him, right in that smug face of his. She doesn’t care that he’s royalty, he’s still a jerk, that much is certain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He better be joking, because Candy was starting to see red now. She took a deep breath before answering.

“I think I’m done here. You know where to reach me, so I don’t think I need to make this conversation longer than it should be.” She paused and turned around, throwing him one last hateful glance. “Good day, Your Smugness, or whatever it is they called you.”

Clearly she’s in bad luck, because as soon as the words were out of her mouth, snow started falling from the pale-dark sky. She really hoped her car would work, so she could get out from this mess. Alas, her bad luck seemed to have extended to that too – she couldn’t seem to ignite the engine. Something must have happened to it during the collision. She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t curse, and started to rummage in her bag for her mobile. She found it, but it’d died, so it’s not going to be of much use to her. At this point, she was just plain angry. She threw the blasted phone back to her bag and started to curse her luck loudly.

“Lordy Lou, now I have to ask _him_ for help?”

Out of all the denizens of Abarat, be in the sea or land or sky (and everything in-between), why _him_? Why does it must be _him_? Candy doesn’t really like the thought of asking Christopher Carrion for help, hard-pressed as she was. Still, she couldn’t possibly walk back to her friend’s house, and there doesn’t seem to be any public transport around. She probably could find it if she looked, but if the snowfall turned into a snowstorm, then she’s doomed. She bit her tongue again, so hard it almost draws blood.

No other choice. Swallowing her pride, and praying that he hasn’t left yet, she grabbed her bag and got out of the car, struggling to maintain a calm façade and a purposeful stride. Halfway through, he lowered his window, his expression almost bored when their gazes meet.

“I thought you said you were _done_? Do I need to recite your words back to you? I was about to _leave_.”

His driver had gotten the engine up and running. Lucky bastard, she privately thought, and stopped some direction away from the passenger seat of his car. The snowfall doesn’t show any sign that it’s going to stop. Candy swallowed hard.

“I can’t get the engine running.”

A moment of uncertain silence fell between them, and she half-expected him to make fun of her again, but instead, there was a subtle change in his usually malicious expression.

“Get in.” He suddenly said, softly, very softly, that she almost couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t believe what she’s hearing, but, judging from Carrion’s expression, he couldn’t believe what he’s saying, either. “Quick, before I change my mind.”

She could feel a smile coming, but he was looking at her with urgency now, so before he truly changes his mind as he says, she ran to other side and got in the car. Soon enough, they were leaving, Houlihan on the wheel. There was silence after that, silence that Candy wasn’t sure how to break, and when she finally mustered up the courage to speak, she’s not the only one, and their words collide. She went red with embarrassment, but quickly apologised.

“Sorry, I…it doesn’t matter, what are you trying to say?” She wasn’t sure why she was so embarrassed. As far as she was concerned, Carrion’s mission in life is to be the bane of hers, so she really wasn’t sure why her heart was beating so wildly in her chest.

“Go on.” He said, surprisingly making the _don’t mind me_ gesture. She was about to counter him for that, but he seemed to have predicted that and shot her a look of reproach. She immediately shut up, and tried very hard to resist the urge to start fidgeting.

“Well, I…I was worried about the car. Is it okay if I just leave it there like that?”

“Do you remember the plate number?” Candy nodded. She was quite certain she remembered. “Write it down and I’ll send someone to deal with it later.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t quite sure what else to say, so she thanked him. She probably should do that soon as she stepped into the car, anyway. “Thank you…for the ride, too.” She tentatively gave him a smile.

“Save it.” His reply was brusque, however, and somehow she felt a sinking feeling inside her. Her smile disappeared, and she turned away, towards the window. They were going at a rather fast pace - Candy could see houses and buildings blurring into one. Some of the snowflakes had stuck into the window.

“Where should I drop you?”

The question stung, too, from the way he phrased it – instead of asking _her_ where she’d want to be dropped, he asked her where should _he_ drop _her_ , as if she was a great inconvenience. As if she was just cargo. Candy balled her hands into fists.

“Not going to be far.” She rummaged in her bag for the address of her friend’s house and promptly shows him just that. He gave the piece of paper a cursory glance and a nod, and immediately instructed Houlihan to go to that address.

Silence descended again, this time icy and uncomfortable. He was probably aware that she was upset in some way, and too socially inept to break the silence. Candy wanted to laugh at that. Christopher Carrion, the great Lord of Midnight, Prince of Gorgossium, Ruler of the Commonwealth of Night Islands, one of the most powerful man in Abarat, was _socially inept_.

That was so ironic, she laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, clearly startled by the sudden change in her demeanour.

“Nothing.” She shot him a glance, and suppressed another laugh. “Nothing at all.”

“If you’re in any way laughing at me…" 

“You’re going to have me cut up in 42 pieces with cutlery? Yeah, I know.” At this point, Carrion’s threats has become a casual occurrence, Candy had expected it as much as she expected her lunch. She yawned and made herself more comfortable in her seat. It’s going to be a while before they reach her friend’s house, and she’s not going to let him upset her further. She’d experienced enough for today. “What are you doing in here, really?” She finally asked, curious.

“State visit.” Candy half-expected him to stop there and shut her out from inquiring any further, but to her surprise, he actually continued. “Efreet allied itself with the Outer Islands, and it prides itself on its supposed independence from the other Night islands, but it really is dependent on Midnight for a lot of things.”

“That’s interesting.” She remarked, holding his pale gaze. “Why is it so? I mean, why does it’s dependent on Midnight? I thought that the people of Efreet were fiercely independent." 

“Political support.” He gave her a concise reply. “Among other things.”

She sensed that he doesn’t want to talk about it further, so she nodded and changed the topic.

“What’s it like in Midnight? I’ve never been there.”

Clearly, the sudden interest in his home surprised him, she could see in his expression. There’s something akin to surprise and confusion, and something else, something she couldn’t quite put a finger on, but he quickly turned away before she could put a name on it. His tone was cold when the silence that momentarily descended between them thawed.

“It’s not a place little girls from the Hereafter want to find themselves in.”

“And is it a place _you_ want to find yourselves in?” She blurted out without thinking again. She felt another sinking feeling, another wave of disappointment crashing in – here they were, having a normal conversation like two normal people, and she _had_ to ruin it. She had to put her nose in things she had no business in, and ruin whatever semblance of normalcy they have. Of course, from the very beginning, their relationship – whatever it is, or perhaps the lack thereof – had been anything but normal, even moreso than Candy’s relationship with other people she’d met during her travels in the Abarat. But it was a moment when they could have been _friends_ , or at least something vaguely amiable instead of constant verbal warfare and casual murder threats, and she mourned the loss of this chance, of what might have been. She bit her lip after the words was out of her mouth, for the iciness of the silence between them could rival the coldest winter night in Efreet. For a moment, she was afraid for her life, afraid that he might carry out his murder threats, afraid of _him_.

“Are you so naïve that you think I have a choice, or a say in the matter?”

There was a tone of finality in his voice, of endings and decrees, and when she opened her mouth to counter him, to explain herself, _to make him listen to her_ , he silenced her with the same gesture he used to silence his underling earlier. Candy closed her mouth, and her words turned into ashes in her throat.

“Here we are. And I hope, for your sake, that this is the last time we met. I might do good on my words and kill you the next time we meet.”

She felt that her legs were going numb, that her entire body was going numb. His words sting, but she doesn’t really know why. She felt tears welling up, but she forced herself to keep it in and made her exit, not sparing him a single glance.

“Farewell, Candy Quackenbush.”

Then she was out, into the world, and Christopher Carrion was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should liked to think that, in this AU, the mutilations, or whatever it is, on Carrion's appearance doesn't necessarily happen. Gorgossium is still an island crawling with terrors and the other islands (except for Odom's Spire) live in fear of it (and the rulers of it), but it's kept secret. People who are considered a threat to the ruling family disappeared suddenly and without a trace, whispers of a forest made of gallows and sanctioned massacres, monsters attacking unwary travelers - things like that. It's not a nice place, and it's a place ruled by fear and terror and mass superstitions (which may or may not be encouraged by the ruling parties). Think 1984 met urban legends and feudalism. Something like that.


	3. The lengthening shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time they met was in a library, and an unexpected conversation occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was, “I’m in a bookshop and I really need that book can you get it for me? Wait you’ve read that book? let’s have an in depth conversation about it.”, height difference AU, [here](http://thanatologicals.tumblr.com/post/116787400684/height-difference-aus), but for some reason it's turning into an impromptu conversation in a library which, naturally, involves angst, because it's Carrion. Poor Candy never had a chance to get that book she wanted to read in the top shelf.

Huffaker is, by nature, a quiet island. Even when trade with the Hereafter is booming, and the landscape of the Abarat slowly changes to accommodate the intersecting worlds, the Island of the Nine o’clock in the evening went about its affairs quietly, almost untouched by the technologies and material decadence that now has contaminated the Abaratian landscape. In many ways, it reminded Christopher Carrion of his home at Gorgossium.

Thus, it is only natural that this is the island where he spent his time, when not attending to the governance of Midnight, smoothing out diplomatic slights (but mostly placing a well-aimed insult or offer here and there), or holed up in the island of Scoriae, where he’d chosen to built a hideout. The reasonable-sized island was a refreshing change from both the forbidding forest near the Twelfth Tower or the now-gaudy lights of the other Night islands.

It also happened to have an impressive library, both in collection and in architecture. The library was carved into an already impressive rock formation that characterised Huffaker’s landscape, and to enter this library was to enter another world altogether, that of cavernous halls and phosphorescent lights. Huffaker, like Efreet, was a scarcely populated island, and the library was quite a massive affair, and therefore the library was almost deserted by all times of the day.

Since the librarians knew he was here (and he frequents the place quite often), they made both themselves – and other people – scarce. Most people either feared him or his reputation – which, by this point, are interchangeable – and for the most part, Christopher was all right with that. His grandmother, during her lucid moments when he was a child, taught him that it’s better to be feared than loved, and for the most part, he tend to agree. 

He was reading a collection of poems from one of his favourite poets (and a famous one among the Night islands), in an armchair by the corner of his favourite room in the library (one of the smaller caverns joined to the main cavern of the library by a tunnel), when distraction arrived, in form of the girl with the mismatched eyes. 

Everything was quiet and peaceful and perfect, of course, before she arrived, with her too-loud footsteps that echoed in the library. Carrion was distracted, then annoyed, followed by full-blown infuriation (because the intruder kept walking and walking and _walking_ and disturbs his sacred space). There were several periods of silence, followed by the softening footsteps getting closer. It stops altogether for a couple of blessed moments, but he knew that the intruder was near.

She padded out from one of the dimly-lit corridor between bookshelves (the one near where he was sitting), and into view. She looked like she was about to say something (she always looked like she was about to say something, or apologise about something that’s completely her fault but could be avoided, which annoys him), but then their gazes met, the light of recognition dawns in her eyes, and astonished silence descends.

He doesn’t know what to say for what feels like the longest time. (And he hated her, too, for having that effect on him. Nobody else makes him feel that way, not even his demented grandmother.)

“You.” He finally said, mustering his astonishment.

“Me,” She arched an eyebrow, disbelieving, her mismatched eyes not leaving his. “What are you doing here?”

“No, that’s _my_ line. Haven’t I mentioned the last time that if I ever see you again, I’m going to have to kill you, girl?”

“Fond memories.” She crossed her arms, and Carrion felt the itch to strangle her. But at the same time, he _doesn’t_ want to strangle her. Strange. (Usually his feelings and opinions of people are extremely black and white, but unfortunately that is not the case with one Candy Quackenbush, who continued to defy and subvert expectations wherever she goes.)

"But I’m not here to trade casual murder insults with you.” She said, and quickly cuts him off when he was about to counter her. “Or sarcasm. I just thought…it’s strange, isn’t it, to keep meeting like this?”

“You mean _I_ keep bumping into _you_ and _you_ keep _annoying_ me.” If she’s looking for some naïve “there must be some Divine reason behind this” theory, then she’s not getting it from him. Not from Christopher Carrion. (Strangely, he thought about it, and he’d be lying if he said that it doesn’t cross his mind, as ridiculous and naïve as it is, but he’s not going to let her know that.)

“If that’s what you want to call it.” There’s no hint of her quick temper showing, or even the slightest bit of annoyance – he felt as if he’d failed, but at the same time he was _glad_. Was he glad because his barb didn’t repel her away (as it did for so many people), or was he glad because of something else?

“This is all pretty strange, though, isn’t it?”

“What is?” He can’t contain his curiosity any longer, and jumped at the bait.

“Everything,” She shrugs, and listlessly grabbed a book from the bookshelf near her. “Everything is strange. I’ve never seen anything like Abarat before.” She flipped through it absent-mindedly. He can’t see the cover, but it probably is an Abaratian poem book, like the one he’s holding, considering the section.

“There is only one Abarat, Candy.”

“Well that’s true.” She kept flipping through the book, as if searching for something. Somehow, he can’t take his eyes off her. There is something about her, something that fascinates him. He can’t put his finger on it, not yet. “There is nothing about Gorgossium even here.”

“Don’t you want to go home?” Ignoring her remark, he sets down the book he was reading near him. It appears that reading can wait, after all. (This is all new, and this all surprised him, his attitude towards her most of all. Her, of all people.)

She shrugs again, returning the book into the shelf and pulling out another book. “Yes and no. Why do you want to know?”

“Why do you always ask questions?”

“Because I’m me, and I ask questions.” She smiled, a private smile that both speaks to him and ignores his presence, and maybe, just maybe, for one second, one tiny second in the endless progression of time, Christopher Carrion’s heart skips a beat.

“Go home.” He said, with a reluctant finality, and picked his book back up, trying to dismiss her presence in both his mind and the room (and his life, goddamnit).

“Why?” She replied, with such a muted explosion that he raised his gaze from the book, transfixed. “Why does everyone say that? I don’t understand.”

“Because,” He draws out his words slowly, watching as he transfixed her in return, a moth to the flame. There was nobody else in the room but them, endless piles of books, and the dust of the ages settling slowly around them. “You bring chaos wherever you go. You’re famous, Candy, like it or not. I saw the news about you yesterday, setting free the freaks of the freakshow in Babilonium. You are something of an anomaly, turning people’s lives upside down in whatever Island you chose to set your feet in.” He eyed her carefully, sizing her up, watching her reaction. “You’ve made yourself powerful enemies.”

It was a lot to take, and there was silence as she let it all sink in. Oddly, her expression was flat – no anger, no shock, just a void, masquerading as her face.

“What about you? Are you my enemy?”

It was his turn to be shocked, and he must have shown it, by the look in her eyes. Carefully, very carefully, not taking his gaze off her, Carrion chose his response.

“Yes, Candy. I am your enemy.” He allowed himself a pause. “Midnight wasn’t in any books because we have no friends. We only have enemies.”

“That’s just…that’s just sad.” Her eyes grow wide at his proclamation, his lie. “Don’t you ever feel lonely? Doing…everything all by yourself?”

Her words hit him harder than it should have, but this time he managed to keep calm.

“Sometimes,” He gingerly admitted, surprised at his own admittance. “It was always Midnight in Gorgossium, of course, and the moon always hung heavy and large in the sky. And sometimes…it feels lonely.” He shrugs, hiding his gaze behind the safety and familiar comfort of his book. Suddenly he feels very tired.

“I understand.” She replied, with more empathy than she has the right to be, than _anyone_ had the right to be. He felt the familiar, noxious feeling of anger welling up inside him, and the itch to strangle her (this girl from Hereafter, who had no business of being here, of being inside his deadbolt cathedral heart) returns. “We could be friends, you know.” She offered an awkward but genuine smile, the one she offered him back in Scoriae and Efreet, and Carrion swallowed the black bile of his anger.

“What do _you_ understand about pain? Or loneliness? Do you even have any inkling of what it is like, living your life in a constant state of isolation and agony? Do you know what it feels like to be constantly rejected? To lose your siblings and your mother at a young age, to be forced into duty and put your own wishes aside? Do you? No?” He took a deep breath, taking a perverse satisfaction in the way her face twists, as if reflecting his agony. “You understand nothing, Candy Quackenbush, so don’t pretend like you do understand.”

 A long, icy silence fell between them, a silence akin to the one he’d experienced during the journey back in his car in Efreet, after the parking incident. He resumed his reading, or at least pretended to do so (oh how he wanted to look at her expression, her reaction, and even more strangely: how he wanted to take back his words because somehow he feels bad, he feels as if he’d wound her deeply). Dismissing her presence in his refusal to acknowledge her any longer, he tried to lose himself in the forest of words, as he was doing earlier before her arrival. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself into it.

“…I’ll leave you to it, then.” The girl said at last, softly, as if afraid of disturbing his ghosts. As if she was afraid of _him_. He wanted to laugh at the thought. “I came here because there’s no one else around and I can’t grab a book I wanted to read from the top shelf. But,” she made a noncommittal gesture (he knew that, like him, she cares more than she cares to admit, too, even if she’s trying to sound casual about it), and, seeing as there was no response from the other end of the line, continued.

“Goodbye.”

She padded away, until she became an echo in the cavern, and for the first time in years, Christopher Carrion felt something akin to _guilt_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris needs hugs. And "I'm me, I ask questions" was definitely my favourite line from Candy. Admittedly, Carrion's modern AU characterisation was inspired by a certain Carrion/Boa/Finnegan fic in FF (which for the life of me I can't remember who wrote it but it's there), where he's standoffish and aloof to basically everyone and even goes so far as to outright lie or manipulate them when trying to shut them out is not working. In this AU, his siblings and mother still died (yeah I was lying when I said this is an everyone is happy AU), Mater Motley still murders them, but instead of disappearing, his father remained, and eventually resigned from his position. I still don't know where to put Boa, though. And I really loved Candy/Carrion's interaction after his resurrection in Tazmagor.


	4. The haunted man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their fourth meeting was aboard a ferry heading towards Scoriae. It was unexpected in more ways than one, and gave Candy a glimpse of both Carrion's past and how he truly feels towards her. More revelations occur, relationships are mended, and conflicted feelings arose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning note: This is where things gets serious, but I promise it's not that heavy. The line "darkness falling (falls), leaves nowhere to go" comes from [Still](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUWrcFpmI5U) by Daughter, a song I associate with this ship, while chapter title comes from [The Haunted Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1InkDv-JUhI) by Bat For Lashes, another song that's definitely in my (upcoming) mixtape for them. Enjoy!

Candy feels as if her trip in the Abarat was slowly coming to an end.

During her time in the islands, she reflected, it has come to feel like home for her, even more so than her home back at Chickentown. It had all been a miracle, a secret symphony she’d had the honour to know, but now it’s reaching its crescendo. There’s still so much that she haven’t seen, so much left unknown, doors left unopened and sights left unseen, and she will never see them. Well, maybe, if she ever got the chance to come back here again, and it is possible. Maybe she’ll work hard after college, so she can afford the passage back here. It would have been easier to just keep in touch with the John brothers, who had been her ticket here (she met them by accident and they asked for help, which Candy agreed to, and in return she’d come with them to Abarat), but…no. She loved her Abaratian friends dearly, but it’s time to leave them for now, and the next time she’s here, if ever, she’d be here by her own efforts (of course she’d earned this trip too, but somehow she doesn’t really consider it such, because the meeting with the John brothers had been a happenstance).

There was another reason, another thing that bothered her deeply, though she wouldn’t tell her friends about it.

The last time she’d met Carrion, on the island of Huffaker, he’d told her that her presence in the islands was unwarranted. She was confused at first, of course. She wasn’t the only visitor from the Hereafter (not when trade between two worlds is booming; though the passage to Abarat is incredibly expensive), nor was she special in any way. She was just a girl, a girl from a small town in Minnesota, who’d landed in Abarat by being in the right place at the right time. She doesn’t even know why Mischief had chosen her, when there are plenty of other options. She doesn’t like to put too much thought about it, because sometimes a chair is just a chair and pure luck found you every now and then, but it bothers her sometimes. Was it because she was the only one in Mischief’s immediate surroundings?

Either way, she doesn’t understand _why_. The thought stays in her mind as she boarded the ferry that will carry her to Scoriae.

The ferry was pretty much deserted, and soon enough she’d found a nice spot to sit. She put her things in the compartment above the seat and immediately sat down. She was exhausted from her revelries in Idjit.

She tried not to think too much, not to bother herself further with uncomfortable thoughts, but she was feeling quite cranky and tired, and the thoughts won’t leave her alone. Soon she reflected back on all the things that she had done and seen; all the lives she’d met, all the people she’d touched and whom had touched her in return, the people she’d come to think of as her friends…

She wondered how she’d “turned their lives upside down”, as Carrion had said. She wondered why he told her that he was her enemy, why he won’t talk about Gorgossium, why she even think about him at all…

She soon drifted asleep with these thoughts spiraling in her mind, and the way he’d stared at her so intently, his eyes so startlingly blue for a man who’s dark in both manner of appearance and outlook.

When she woke up, she wasn’t alone.

A short man in a dark coat, reading a newspaper, has occupied the seat beside her. Candy blinked, trying to dispel sleep from her still-heavy eyelids, and sat up straighter. How long has he been here?

Realising that she is awake, the man beside her folded his newspaper neatly and gave her a polite smile. He was an ordinary-looking man, now Candy can see, so ordinary that she might have missed him had the ferry wasn’t deserted and had he not sat beside her. Beneath his dark coat, he was wearing a white button-up shirt and a tie, in the manner of a businessman who’d just clocked out. He had dark grey eyes, black hair, and otherwise a nondescript face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” The man said, still offering her a polite smile. Candy frowned mentally, but returned his smile.

“It’s okay,” She replied, stretching her legs. Her entire body felt like lead. She was more tired that she thought. “I was just…surprised, that’s all.”

“That’s a normal reaction.” The man said in turn.

Silence descends between them, two strangers whom fate and chance had put together in the same boat. Candy glanced around, trying to get a better sense of her surroundings. There were a couple of other passengers, but they were sitting far away from her and the man. That leaves a lot of empty space. Candy risked another glance at the man, who had now opted to fold his hands and leave her be for the time being, in favour of the private company of his thoughts. Why had he chosen to sit beside her?

She was curious, but he looked as if he was not to disturbed, and she doesn’t know how to ask it without sounding rude, so she gave up and kept it to herself. Silence remained between them, and she opted to look outside the window. They were gaining speed. In the distance she could see what might have been an island wreathed in red mist, but she could be wrong.

“I was wondering if you could help me.” The man breaks the silence, his voice so quiet, Candy almost missed it. She turned to him, surprised.

“With what?” She asked, barely keeping her astonishment a secret. His nondescript face remained calm, and his gaze was oddly serene when it met hers. His voice revealed conflicting emotions underneath the surface, however.

“An advice, if you will.” Despite his calm composure, Candy knew that he was the kind of man who rarely asks for advices, if ever. She was still confused, still surprised, but her curiosity wins.

“What about?”

He was quiet. Candy waited, patiently, for his answer. There was a sense of urgency in his request, yet he took his time to compose his answer. It must be very important to him.

“A…friend of mine, you could say that.” She remained quiet, waiting for the rest of his words to come out, and, sensing her attention and taking her silence as permission to continue, he carries on. “She is…unusual, to say at the least. She reminded me of someone I once knew, though maybe to equate them both is an act of great evil, but regardless, she reminded me of someone I once loved and lost.”

He paused, not for catching his breath, she knew, but because it pained him to do so. She gauged it from the way he’d spoken about it, about _her_ – with great care, as if she was a treasure to be protected. There was a hidden tenderness, when he spoke about the other woman, which speaks volumes about his character, and led her to wonder about what kind of woman could make a man stumble and fall so hard. She briefly remembered about her crush in junior high, then her date for prom in high school, and none of them has spoken about her with such tenderness. Not even her own father loved her with such softness, such wistful longing.

“We kept meeting each other by accident. She thought that there maybe was something about that, something about Divine Providence bringing people together, but…” He trailed off for a bit, his gaze far away. “I’m not so sure about that. I’m certain that she was my second chance at love, however.”

He looked at her, expecting a response, but she gestured for him to continue. He took a deep breath.

“It was ridiculous, of course. To have your heart broken once is explicable, but to have your heart broken twice is irrevocable. I don’t even know why I think that, or why she caught my attention in the first place. All I know is that she’d entered my life, and her presence won’t left it, no matter what I do.”

All was still between them. The other passengers are either sleeping or doing their own thing, caught up in their own little worlds, and Candy felt as if there was nobody else in the world, not even the waves, or the movement of the ship, or the air – just her and the man beside her, telling her about the girl he loves.

“What happened then?” She asked, ever so gently, because she knew, something must have went wrong somewhere if advice is what he asked for. She still doesn’t know _why her_ , but somehow it felt right for her to try help the man set things straight. 

“I…think I wound her deeply.” He admitted, reluctantly, not meeting her gaze.

“How so?”

“I told her that she was not welcome.” His voice was strangely quiet, had a strangeness to it that she cannot quite placed. When he finally met her gaze again, it felt deeply familiar, though wrong, so wrong. _It shouldn’t be grey_ , her mind told her, and she doesn’t really know why or _what_. “And that I was her enemy.”

She gasped, unbidden; her hands flew to the edge of her seat, as if grounding herself. She couldn’t speak for a while, just staring at him, disbelief and shock and horror all rolled into one.

“It…it couldn’t be.” She told him, barely finding her voice. “How did you know? And how did you…”

She trailed off, suddenly realising that he was speaking about her all along. The dawning of it left her wide-eyed, grasping for anything, _anything_ , she could anchor both her thoughts and herself upon.

“How did I know what, Candy?” His voice had changed, and it was like that moment after a magic trick was revealed – the illusion sloughing off, leaving behind the truth. The sun sets, darkness falls, and there was nowhere to go.

“You… _you_ tricked me.” She watched it all unfold, the transformation, the change, the reveal. She was staring at the magician, still wide-eyed, still gaping, who by now was picking the newspaper and started to unfurl it.

“It’s not trickery. You should have known since the beginning.” Christopher Carrion remarked calmly, as if they were talking about the weather. As if he’d been here all along, and what he’d said earlier doesn’t happen. Candy finally managed to regain her composure, and glared at him angrily.

“How am I supposed to know that it was _you_? You made it all seem so convincing, so…so…” She wavered, trying to find the right word. “ _Real_.”

“Beginner’s magic and a trick of the light.” He deflected casually, turning a page of the newspaper, only sparing her a glance. There was something in his glance, a certain glint, but she wasn’t sure what. Then again, she was always on uncertain ground when it comes to Carrion. “You studied magic, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but…” She hadn’t studied that, not even close. She had shown a natural aptitude for magic, her Abaratian friends had told her (in various amazed manner), but she was only in the early stages. She doesn’t even know that disguising yourself as someone else _was_ possible. “More to the point, what are you doing here?”

She was hit by an icy silence. Talking to Carrion is like talking to a brick wall at times. She wasn’t going to give up, though.

“You keep asking me that question. Do you know what you’re doing _here_?”

She gaped again a little at that, then slumped in her seat. She knew what he meant, and she didn’t like it a bit.

“In Abarat? Why, yes, I believe I _know_ what I’m doing.” She crossed her arms, putting on what she hoped was a good imitation of the smug expression he’s usually wearing. “Do _you_?”

“You’re going home.” He made another remark, completely ignoring her question, or her attempt at smugness. Candy was infuriated.

“Yes, I am. In a week or two, maybe. Why? You want to question my choices? Did you come all the way here to say, ‘ _I told you so_ ’?” She snorted, not even trying to keep the irony out of her voice. “Because that does sound like something you would do.”

She steeled herself for a world famous Carrion jab in return, but he was silent. Candy doesn’t know what to expect.

“No.” His answer was curiously unexpected, and Candy found herself staring at him intently. He continued flipping through the pages listlessly, still not meeting her gaze.

“Then why are you here?” She asked, maybe with more force than she’d intended it to be. She was hit with silence again, less icy than the last, but rife with secrets and unspoken things.

“I’ve already told you.” His manner of reply, when he finally went through all the trouble to give her one, was brusque. Candy knew what he meant, not instantly, but she knew, she _knew_. She just doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Her silence prompted him to continue. He cleared his throat. “The last time we met, it…doesn’t end so well.”

“Horrible.” She immediately countered, folding her arms and glaring at him. “You might as well bring your nightmares, or whatever it is you call your pets. Or you could cut me in 42 tiny pieces with your royal cutlery.”

People like Christopher Carrion surely didn’t flinch, especially when facing an ordinary girl from the Hereafter, a commoner who’s not even Abaratian, so maybe she imagined that, for a fraction of a second, he visibly winced. As if she’d just stuck a jab that’s on point.

“Was the sarcasm really necessary?” He parried, and she gave him the ‘that’s the Christopher Carrion I _know_ ’ look of approval. “I know I should have killed you when I’ve had the chance. 

“Just spit it out.” She told him, now feeling _actually_ smug. He gave her a death sentence glare, but at this point, she was rather used to that, and glared back defiantly. They stayed like that for a few moments, just glaring at each other, until the Lord of Midnight let out a long sigh.

“Fine.” He sounded like his usual ‘always cross, always one second away from the trigger’ self, and for a moment, Candy was glad about that. She’d rather deal with sarcastic, irritable Carrion, because in all frankness, she doesn’t know how to deal with the _other_ Carrion. The Carrion that talked about her as if…she’d actually meant _something_ to him.

“I apologise.” He said, at last, in a reasonable tone. Oddly, she doesn’t feel so angry anymore, and she doesn’t really feel like holding it against him. He looked at her, expectantly, but she felt just a tad bit mischievous. 

“For what?” She replied, taunting him just a little. She could see the crease of a frown that so becomes him, and for a moment, she wanted to take back her demand, somehow afraid that she’s hurting him further. But her stubbornness wins, and she didn’t take back her words.

“For the last time.”

“The last time _what_?”

He looked as if he could strangle her any second now, and for a moment, Candy thought that he’s probably going to do that, or worse, he’s going to just leave and left her alone here with the weight of things both said and unsaid. A familiar flash of anger crossed his pale blue eyes, but he’s swallowing his pride. 

“The last time we’ve met, in Huffaker. I know I’ve said some things that…”

She stopped him with a gesture, indicating that she’d understand and there’s no need to go any further.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” She hesitated for a moment. “Did you?”

“No.” He answered, with great reluctance. “I suppose not.”

An awkward silence fell between them, but Candy was determined to straighten things up.

“So…” She started, but not sure how to continue. She let her words hang in the air for a while, testing the waters, wanting to see how he reacted. Seeing as he opted to remain silent, she eventually continued. “So are we on good terms now, or do you still intend to murder me brutally?”

“I still intend to murder you brutally, but not as brutal as I’d intended before.”

Most people would have taken that as a serious threat, but, even if they’ve shared an odd and unconventional relationship (whatever it is), Candy immediately knew that the Lord of Midnight was joking. She returned it with a smile and a laugh, a genuine sound that comes from somewhere deep inside her chest, and visibly relaxed.

Whatever storms have raged between them, it has passed. She’d never felt so relieved in her life before. Of course, they were still on uncertain ground about a lot of things (or at least she _was_ ), and there was the matter of what he’d said before under the guise of the man, but for now, Candy was content to just let it _be_.

Her laugh seemed to unnerve him, however. He was looking at her strangely, as if she’d just sprouted a second head (which is actually not that weird of a thing in Abarat).

“Why are you laughing?” Carrion asked, genuinely confused. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy the confused look upon his face. After all, it wasn’t everyday she witnessed Christopher Carrion looking truly puzzled.

“Nothing,” She grinned. “Nothing at all. Don’t mind me." 

He looked as if he’d just swallowed something that’s particularly hard to swallow, and Candy had to stop herself from laughing. She grinned still and he turned away, embarrassed. 

“So we’re friends now?” She’d had the audacity to ask, because she really harboured no bad intention towards him, or anyone else, for that matter. Even if her being in the Abarat was pure accident on fate’s part, and even if what he said in Huffaker was true, she was here to explore and make friends, and if she unwittingly turned somebody’s life upside down, it wasn’t her intention to. She loved _people_ \- back in the Hereafter she wasn’t much of a sociable creature, but people in the Abarat were different. They were so interesting, so _colourful_ , and each had their own story to tell, including Carrion.

His expression darkens for a moment at her question, but the quickness of his reply – for such a question – surprised her.

“Yes,” He agreed. “In a way.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Her smile widened, and, even if Candy cannot hear it, Christopher Carrion’s heart quickened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Chris is really head over heels for Candy. For the purposes of this AU, Candy is older. She'd just graduated from high school and met the John brothers. At this point I'm not certain if I'm going to keep the original storyline or not, but I don't think so, since this is supposed to be Everyone Is Happy AU (to some degree). Still, I'm going to parallel some things from canon. Boa, however, is dead, and not reincarnated / put in Candy's body. So the things that reminded Chris of Candy are just pure similarities and his personal interpretation.


	5. Let loss reveal it (Pt I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fifth time they met, it was back in Scoriae. He should have expected to see her, since they were neighbours, but he wasn't expecting her to be in his private garden, picking things that she had no business plucking. A little bonding time and - _gasp_ \- normal conversation ensues, in which it finally sinks in that he's utterly and unapologetically fascinated by her, and she's probably not as indifferent to him as he initially thought. Part I of II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally was intended to be a single chapter like the others, but it got too long and wordy, and I don't want it to get boring, so I cut it in two parts. Besides, the second part fits in with the entire "intentional meeting" idea of the sixth chapter, though I probably should still churn out an epilogue, ish. Prompt originally was "please stop picking flowers from my garden AU", but I think about Gorgossium's "a garden full of harmful plants", and the fact that Chris is a sorcerer, and one thing led to another. Chapter title from Florence + the Machine's song St Jude. Song atmosphere for this chapter: Hiding by Florence + the Machine (EDIT: no working link, sorry) and [A Perfect Sight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tHO4cl5U_ZU) by Surface of Atlantic. Trigger warning for non-explicit mention of child abuse.

Time is an interesting thing in the Abarat. It both flows and remained stagnant, condensed into a single mode of being, a certain point, all at once. 

The meeting with the Council always exhausts him.

Christopher Carrion was a man with no fear (or a notable lack thereof, at least, a trait shared by all inhabitants of the island of Gorgossium, which sits in the hour of abject terror, that strange hour of midnight), a man who kept his own nightmares as pets (an experiment that left him scarred forevermore, both physically and mentally), and, most notably, a man not to be trifled with, least of all lightly, but the Council of Hours has always somehow managed to push all of his buttons.

There was a piece of truth in what he’d told Candy Quackenbush back at the island of Huffaker. Midnight has no shortage of enemies, or a lack of political allies for that matter. Formally, it was the leader of the Commonwealth of Night islands, as Yzil was the leader of the Day islands, yet the truth was much more complicated and chaotic than that. The Night islands, for the most part, live in fear of Gorgossium and its rulers, a legacy that was left behind by his father before his abdication, his grandmother before him, and his great-grandfather and great-great-grandmother before that. His family has ruled the mist-wreathed island with an iron fist and relentless determination (along with sorcery) since the beginning of known history.

And now, it was all left to him to sort out the mess.

The Council, in truth, had little power, due to the fact that every island in the Abarat, no matter how small or irrelevant, was fiercely independent, and its meetings are increasingly getting more and more like a club meeting, or an after-school extracurricular activity (well, they all certainly act like middle school students, Carrion thought with disdain, not that he’d ever attended public schooling), instead of a supranational political authority. He would have gladly avoided the meetings and sent someone else in his stead (the thought of sending one of his, ah, unsavoury underlings to wreck a havoc almost bring a smile to his face), but the Council has perceived enough imaginary slights as it is from his direction, he really doesn’t need to add more. If war breaks out, Gorgossium could probably weather it, but the fallout can be hard to deal with, and Carrion planned long-term.

Regardless of what has happened in the meeting today – which he endeavoured to forget as soon as possible – it has come to an end, and he quickly made his way out of Yebba Dim Day without much fuss. Since he aimed to reach his little hideout in Scoriae, he’d abandoned the formal escort (not that he’s in the habit of using one, the “formal” is there for a reason) and flew in a glyph of his own making towards the island.

The much-needed solitude replenished him, and he was in a much better mood when he finally touched down in Scoriae.

But he still wasn’t expecting the girl, Candy Quackenbush, to be in his private garden when he reached the house.

She was noticeably surprised when she saw him – as she always did – and there was a moment or two of awkward silence. She was already holding something, he noticed, some herbs she’d picked up prior to his unexpected arrival.

“Um…hello?” She greeted tentatively, trying very hard to sound casual and not awkward at all (another thing he noticed). If she is trying hard to make it sound as if she’d actually expected his presence in the garden, he doesn’t mince his words.

“Put. Those. Down.” He decreed, with much-needed emphasis (in his perspective) and precision. She looked a bit startled, a bit annoyed, in return. Mostly not sure how to respond to this sudden declaration of probable war.

“Okay, okay, if that’s what you want…” She actually did as he told her to, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “There. Happy now? I’m sorry. I swear I have a reason for this.”

“It’s not your apology I want.” He retorted, and for a fleeting moment he wondered if he’s being too brusque, judging by the look of her face. But then again, he did what was necessary.

“Are we back to this again? Exchanging threats and sarcasm?” A flicker of disappointment crossed her different-coloured eyes, and Carrion felt a familiar pang of hurt.

“Candy, those herbs were dangerous.”

Silence descends. He couldn’t read her expression – it was too colourful – but her silence tells him that she was at least mildly mortified. She clears her throat and shuffled at her feet. 

“I didn’t know that.” She admitted, rather shyly. “Malingo challenged me to make an Abaratian dish, and…”

He wanted to bring his palm to his face. It’s been a long day, and although he suspected that the girl from Hereafter was more than a little bit clueless, he wasn’t expecting her to actually be… _this_ clueless. The plant she was holding was a distant cousin of the nightshade in the Hereafter, distant yet just as dangerous, if not more. 

“Come,” He beckoned at her to follow him towards the house. “You need to wash your hands. It’s not safe until you’ve washed your hands.” He belatedly realised that the dangerously tender tone he’d never used to anyone else but her (except at someone who’s been dead for five years now, dead and _in the ground_ , he reminded himself) has crept into his voice unwittingly, but he tried to keep his face straight.

Amazingly, she nodded and followed him. 

Carrion still marveled over this fact as they went into the house, his sacred sanctum that nobody else but him had entered, and it was still largely on his mind when he directed her towards the bathroom.

While she was taking her time in the bathroom, he racked his mind senseless, trying to figure out what to do next. The obvious solution to the apparent problem (if it can be considered as such) was to immediately usher her out and be done forever with her after she was finished, but for the very same reason that he cannot hand over the job of killing her to his trusted assassin and right-hand man (to murder her himself was not unthinkable, but he simply cannot bring himself to do that), he can’t pretend that he wanted her to leave as soon as possible, either.

Quite the contrary, he wanted her to stay.

Despite the emotional implications of the proposition, he would be more inclined to say that he simply wanted to sit with her and pick her brain, if not for science, then for curiosity reasons. He had a lot to talk about to her, if not with her, and the moment of initial resistance and reactionary threats was over.

He pondered this over, while trying to sort out his feelings.

“What are you doing over there?” The sudden interruption of her voice, seemingly out of nowhere, startled him out from his reverie. A lesser man would have jumped out of surprise, but Christopher Carrion was no lesser man. He instinctively scowled at her, suddenly realising that he was dawdling in the hallway.

“Nothing,” He lied, rather confidently, but not convincing enough, judging from the subtle shift of Candy’s expression. “I was, er, looking out for you. Watching you. In case you decided to take something else.”

Her raised eyebrow marked a skeptical expression he’d seen a couple of times by now, and he belatedly noticed, in horror, that he _stuttered_. God, this girl is more dangerous than he thought.

“What would I steal, soap?” She doesn’t seem particularly phased by his fake accusation, and instead returned it with a joke and a smile. “What’s in your soap, black magic?”

“No.” He refuted, more forcibly than he intended, and then tried to amend it with a smile, which came out as another scowl. To his dismay, he realised that his face muscles doesn’t really work the way he planned it to be. This whole ‘being friendly’ thing just doesn’t work. He gave up and suppressed a sigh.

Mercifully, Candy seemed to understand, and gave him a patient smile. A moment of silence passed while they stood like that in the hallway, not yet friends, no longer enemies. She doesn’t seem especially bothered by the awkwardness, nor his seemingly impregnable silence. He watched her, this strange girl from a stranger land, as her eyes darted around the hallway, landing in paintings after paintings. She seemed endlessly curious, always restlessly moving, and that in itself fascinates him. Everything about her is novel, and everything about her fascinates him interminably.

“Are you hungry?” He broke the silence, pulling himself out from the treacherous waters of his own thoughts and feelings. It felt awkward, asking something that was usually beneath his concern, to her, of all people. Carrion had never felt so uncertain in his life, but he was at least certain of one thing: he wanted her to stay. And it seemed like she was not in a hurry to leave. (He was secretly, strangely grateful that she seemed to be more comfortable in his presence, although another part of him absolutely despised that.)

“Me? No.” She seemed alarmed by the sudden question, and her attention was clearly elsewhere, but not far enough. He allowed himself to look at the painting that so captures her attention seconds before his question. It was one of the many paintings of Gorgossium that dotted his hideout, and one of his personal favourites. This one depicts the gargantuan, eldritch immensity of the Thirteen Towers of the Iniquisit, looking over the cliff by the dark, indeterminable waters of the Izabella. The small, silver moon was waning in the eternally midnight sky, and there are several zetheks flying in the distance. He had another copy of it in his personal study back in the Twelfth Tower, and he brought the painting over to Scoriae on his own.

She seemed so engrossed in it, that Carrion cannot help but looked at the painting, as well. He’d seen it a dozen times before – since his childhood, nevertheless – but he wanted to know what about it that interests her so.

“What are you thinking?” He finally said, breaking the silence again, succumbing to his own curiosity.

“Nothing much.” She said simply, turning her attention back to him. “It’s your home, isn’t it? In the painting?” She gestured towards the towers and their solemn heights, standing in their lonely, sleepless vigil, as if he doesn’t know what she meant.

“Yes.” He confirmed, not without any difficulty. After all, he doesn’t like to talk about Midnight, not to her. Candy doesn’t look satisfied with his answer, however, so he made an attempt to say something else. “The Thirteen Towers of the ancient fortress of Iniquisit, standing over the waters of the Izabella.”

“I’d figured,” She said, but without any trace of smugness in her. “I’ve read it in Samuel Klepp’s _Almenak_.” Seeing that there was no response from him, she continued. “It’s said that there are all sorts of unspeakable horrors contained within the towers. Is it true?”

He hesitated for a moment, trying to decide which version of the truth he should gave her – the one he told everyone, the diplomatic one, or the real, empirical truth of it. In the end, he chose neither.

“The only horror you should be afraid of is my grandmother.” He allowed himself a slight pause, trying to gauge her reaction. “She’s mostly senile nowadays, but when she’s lucid…god help you.”

“Is she that bad?” Candy asked, somehow looking genuinely concerned. Carrion wondered about it. His ironic sense of humour seemed to have passed her unnoticed.

“Well, back in the day, she was hailed as the most wicked woman in the entirety of the Abarat.” He shrugged. “She drove my father mad." 

“It musn’t be easy, living with her.” She cringed, he guessed, at the thought of living with his grandmother. Instead of the familiar touch of anger, he felt something like pity, something like apathy, but he’s not quite sure which, and he cannot quite put it in words.

“It’s not easy.” He agreed with her, subconsciously touching the surgical scar near the base of his scalp where her grandmother had authorised an operation that was the origin of his nightmare pets. They were indeed his nightmares made flesh, and was gained by literally prodding the depths of his mind by a horrendeous procedure that was the abominable offspring of Hereafter science and Old Abaratian magic. He’d resigned himself to covering it up with his hair, which has now reached the bottom of his scalp (and kept at that length), but the experimentation has left him physically scarred for life. And that wasn’t the only scar that the Old Hag has given him.

“My father wasn’t the easiest person to live with too, you know.” She said quietly after a couple of minutes of silence, her gaze now back to the solemnity of the Gorgossian landscape. Her sudden confession, in all honesty, astonished Carrion, and he had not the slightest idea of how to respond.

“Is that why you’re here?” He responded, not wanting the silence to be a permanent resident between them, but instantly regretted it soon as it left his tongue.

“No,” She countered, thankfully, not looking offended in the slightest. “I’m here because of a lot of things, but my father is not one of them.”

Silence falls again between them, this time more comfortable than the last, though by no means welcome. Somewhere along the interval of her looking at the painting (that initiated the conversation they’re currently having) and Candy’s latest words, he’d quite unconsciously move to stand beside her, and she’d moved closer still, so that their shoulders are presently touching. Well, not exactly, as she is a great deal shorter than him, but still.

He’d no idea what to do with this sudden physical closeness, either, and he doesn’t know what bothers him more, the immediate physical closeness between them or the fact that she doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by it.

“Do you want to…talk somewhere else?” He dared himself to ask, secretly hoping against all hope that she would stay. In truth, he’d so much to say but no idea of how to say them. The concept of casual, genuine conversations eludes him. He never know how to because it never be of any use, in his life. Not until now.

“Sure,” If she is surprised, she doesn’t show it, he thought. “That would be nice.”

Strangely, Candy sounded genuine about it, as if she was actually glad to sit down and chat with _him_. The notion alone perplexed him, and it defies his expectation. Then again, she never failed to subvert expectations, and she certainly doesn’t fail him this time.

Against everything that he’d been taught, against his long-unused facial muscles, against his conscious will to keep his feelings out of this for as long as possible, Christopher Carrion smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, so my plan to make this into an Everyone Is Happy AU failed horribly. Oh well. And I don't think Candy is stupid, in fact she's rather perceptive and somewhat street smart in canon, but she can be rather clueless sometimes. Which is where the "Malingo challenged me to make an Abaratian dish" line came from. I still don't know whether she can actually cook or not, but let's just say she's learning how to in Abarat. Other things are also a mystery, such as how time _really_ worked in Abarat, or how old is Chris actually. For the purposes of this AU, he's going to be in his late twenties (and he met Boa in his early twenties). I'd reckon Abaratians don't age as humans do, at least the humanoid ones like Chris (or was it due to his magic?), but again, for this AU...they'd still live longer than "normal" humans, though. Lastly, I'd imagine the Iniquisit would look like [Dragonstone](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/a/a5/Dragonstone.jpg), except without all the dragon sculptures.


	6. Death has become my breathing (Pt II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candy and Carrion sit down and really _talked_. He was a fortress, Candy realised, a fortress as impenetrable as the Iniquisit, and she had to break through. It's not an easy task, and she may have gotten more than she bargained for. Part II of II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, talk about unresolved _issues_. I don't think I can stop writing this, or resolve their goddamn issues in the next chapter, so this could easily be ten chapters. lol. Let's hope not, though. I've had enough of Chris's angst for a lifetime. Chapter title is another line from The Haunted Man, and to amp up the feels: [Cosmic Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EIeUlvHAiM) & [Skin of the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4Pg-2LP76g). Enjoy!

Candy could hardly remember the last time she was in a similarly awkward situation. Back in middle school, she went out on a date with a boy who fancied her, but whom she didn’t fancy back. She didn’t say no because he’d pleaded with her – _please, go out with me_ – and she didn’t have the heart to tell it to his face that she didn’t like him as much as he’d liked her. They had lunch together at a diner and there’s no conversation between them, just a silence as vast as the sea of Izabella when she’d first laid eyes upon it on what was supposed to be an ocean of grass. They parted ways and she’d never heard from him again since then, and he always ducked out of her way at school every time they crossed paths. She’d never thought much about it, but now it’s all coming back to her.

She’d learnt since then.

And she knew better now, of course. This wasn’t middle school anymore, and the man she was with was not a smitten schoolboy. Christopher Carrion wasn’t a man to be trifled with lightly, she knew. She’d heard all sorts of things about him in the places she’d visited and from the people she’d met. She’d heard things on the news and she’d overheard different things on the streets. There are a thousand and one things on Abarat that vie for her attention, but she’d never missed a single one on him after their chance encounter on this very same island they’re in.

It bothered her that almost none of those things were positive. But she was not the one to pre-judge people, especially based on hearsay and sensationalism, and even if he’d annoyed Candy at the beginning, her opinion on him had changed.

That is not to say that she still didn’t have her doubts.

The thing that bothered her the most is her own feelings towards him. She’d harboured something akin to a mild annoyance and more than an ounce of caution at first, but after the ferry episode, she wasn’t so sure anymore, and she was never as doubtful as she was at the moment. These contradicting feelings greatly troubled her, and to her growing unease, she’d to admit to herself that she felt a certain kind of _fondness_ towards him. She was still wary of him, of course. He was as implacable as the waters of Izabella and she never knew when a mantizac would burst out of his depths.

The Lord of Midnight himself was sitting across her on the empty dining table, hands folded, watching her, his expression inscrutable. She felt the growing unease on the pit of her stomach, but she knew she musn’t show it. She told herself to stay calm and keep her expression neutral.

“Are you certain you don’t want anything?” He asked, and a part of her was grateful that he broke the silence. (After that failed date many summers ago, Candy was rather afraid of long periods of silence.)

“Just water, please.” She inquired, a bit too politely (and a tad more too awkwardly), and reprimanded herself mentally for that. She watched as her glass of water seemingly materialized out from nowhere in front of her just by the gesture of his hand. Awed, she reached out cautiously to touch it, somehow afraid that it would dissipate like an illusion. Like the skin he’d worn in the ferry to fool her. “Thanks.”

“It doesn’t materialize out of thin air, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She bit her lip, and for a second foolishly thought that he’d read her mind (and this wouldn’t be the first time). She glanced in his direction and saw that he was arching an eyebrow and watching her amusedly. She quickly looked away.

“Then where did it come from?”

“My servant brought it to you.” Her expression must have shifted to show the state of her mind over that statement, because he continued. “You cannot see him. He is…” He seemed at loss of words, or perhaps of finding the right words. Or maybe he just changed his mind about explaining. Candy thought he changed his mind quite often. “Forget it.”

“I get it.” She quickly replied, even if she actually didn’t get it either. First the illusion of being another man, and now invisible servants. She’d seen quite a lot of strange and wondrous thing at Abarat, and witnessed various kinds of magic, but Carrion’s was… _special_. She was certain he’d more tricks hidden on his sleeves.

He seemed to have predicted that she didn’t actually get it, judging from the slight change of his expression, but he didn’t say anything about it (mercifully, she wasn’t really in the mood to be called out or made fun of for being the girl from Hereafter). Candy progressed with her list of (unending) questions.

“Am I that obvious?” She held his pale gaze, daring him to look away. The sudden boldness must have taken him by surprise, because he did just that.

“Why do you ask?”

She’d gained an opening. Candy pressed on.

“Huh, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Seems to me like you can read my mind sometimes.” She allowed herself a slight pause, gauging Carrion’s response. “At this point, you know me better than myself.”

“Well,” He’d met her gaze again, but she knew hesitance when she saw one. And it wasn’t one she saw often, not in him, who was so… _certain_ about everything. He was born in power and he exudes power, knew that he was entitled to most things and he certainly acted like it. She knew that he’d singlehandedly managed the governance of his Island after his coronation; not an easy feat, for someone who was still fairly young. Candy knew that she probably wouldn’t have survived, had she was put in Carrion’s place. 

“I suppose you can be, sometimes.” He confessed, rather gingerly. She remembered the boy who took her on that date, many summers ago, how he fidgeted during the entirety of their lunch together. A part of her wanted to smile. “Sometimes your expression is just so…colourful.”

Now she really did smiled at that, a wide and easy smile that always reminder her of her own mother.

“Really? So colourful’s the word, is it?” She laughs for a bit, reaching for her glass of water. She thought that the ice between them had been thawed, but he looked more nervous than ever.

“Well…yes and no.” Then he quickly added, as if he’s afraid of offending her. _Her_. Candy wanted to laugh real loud at that. “I suppose.”

“Hey, why don’t we play a little game?” She suggested, taking another sip of her water. All the earlier nervousness had melted in her stomach, and somehow it made her thirsty.

“A game?”

“Yeah, a game. It’s not hard, just something to break the ice. Ready?”

“Why not?” He countered immediately, taking it easier than she’d initially thought.

“It’s called Twenty Questions.” She watched Carrion’s expression real closely now, watching for any signs of puzzlement or annoyance or anything at all. As if expecting that, his expression remained unfazed, guarded. Candy was rather disappointed. She was expecting a more colourful response from him (to borrow his use of the word).

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“No, it doesn’t have to be twenty. It’s just a figure of speech.” She paused. “It’s not a press conference.”

“Well, fire away.” To her surprise, he unknotted his fingers, showing her his open palms in a gesture of surrender and openness, and leaned back on his seat. The look on his pale blue eyes was calculating, guarded. Candy wasn’t sure if she liked that, but she’d initiated this event, now she must see it through. She felt rather optimistic about the venture, anyway, for an unknown reason.

“First of all…” She trailed off, her gaze searching, suddenly feeling hesitant about the entire thing. He was a fortress, Candy realised…a fortress as impenetrable as the Iniquisit, and she had to break through. Somehow. She racked her brain for a suitable opening question.

“First of all,” She repeated, finding what feels like the right question and her confidence back. She could feel him watching her, like a panther stalking its prey. She shuddered mentally at the astonishingly accurate image. “What should I call you?”

The question must have taken him by surprise, because she was immediately met with silence. Either that, or he was shutting her out again. She hoped not. She’d come too far to fail.

“What kind of question is that?” She’d be lying if the scathing undertone didn’t hurt her. Candy had hoped to coax him out with a simple question, but clearly he’d chosen to be difficult. Again.

“The kind that people ask when they get to know each other and one of them don’t know what to call the other, because he never tell.”

He was looking at her with that look that implies that he’s on the verge of either strangling her or shutting her out, and she couldn’t help but add a small jab.

“I mean, should I call you ‘Your Highness’, ‘my Lord’, or what? You never did tell.”

He looked faintly amused with more than a trace of smugness at that. Candy felt the strong urge to just disappear into thin air.

“Well, what do you think?” Countering questions with more questions, a typical Carrion move she should have anticipated. She suppressed the urge to throw something at his face.

“I was thinking that maybe Your Smugness really do suits you better.”

“You can do better than that, Candy.” Was he taunting her? She couldn’t be certain. However, she was certain that this could go on and on for days if she didn’t put a stop to it. So Candy Quackenbush, girl extraordinaire, puts on her best straight face and serious tone.

“How about Chris? I know a Chris, once.” She knew a faint, nostalgic smile was playing on the corner of her lips now. The name called the memories back, as if it was a beacon and the memories a ship, searching for a safe port to land. “He used to follow me everywhere in kindergarten. Once, he fell off a swing, and I was the only one who can stop him from crying." 

She searched his expression again, looking for a trace of compassion, of concern, agreement, anything. She found only blanks, but she thought she saw Carrion’s expression softened for a bit. Maybe she’d imagined it, because as fast as it appears, it disappears, just like that.

“Absolutely not.” His voice was devoid of any trace of sympathy, or of any other emotions she’d expected to make an appearance. Carrion’s fortress was more formidable than she thought, more impregnable, more remote, and Candy was close to giving up.

“Well, then what do you _want_?” He already opened his mouth to respond, but she quickly cuts him off. “And don’t give me anymore questions in return, I want an _answer_.”

This is frustrating, she thought. She’d never get through to him. And after that small outburst he’d probably shut her out forever. She’d never succeed with this.

Amazingly, he opened his mouth and then shut it again, and subsequently averted his gaze. He seemed to be at loss for words. They stayed like that for what feels like an eternity to Candy, sitting on the same table, but not even looking at each other. It was like this, at home, with her father, and somehow, she doesn’t want to lose him like she’d lost her father. She opened her mouth, about to say something, about to take her question back, but he’d beaten her to it. 

“Christopher.” His voice was strangely quiet, far away and yet at the same time was _there_ , and the still-silence has given it a mythical quality. He was like a figure from the myths she’d read on the internet, but he was real. He was _here_. “You can call me Christopher. I’m not a mewling infant on the playground.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “But you _do_ follow me around.” 

“It was an accident. Chance and accident.”

“The Universe has a way of bringing people together.” Candy insisted, challenging him. _And sometimes maybe they’re meant to be_ , she thought, though meant to be _what_ , she’s not quite certain. (Maybe she did have an inkling of an idea of what it is, but the thought alone made her red in the face, so she quickly shoo the thought away and hoped that he didn’t notice.)

He doesn’t seem to be moved by her argument, however. He was looking the way he was at the beginning of the conversation: implacable, unmovable. All the traces of nervousness or tenderness had gone away and, if he noticed her blush, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Why don’t we move on to the next question?” He proposed, and the aloofness of his tone made her wonder if what she’d witnessed earlier was a dream. Candy couldn’t seem to make a connection between the Carrion who treated her as if she was just another insignificant thing in the universe, and the Carrion (no, _Christopher_ , she reminded herself, it was still strange to think of him on such familiar terms but…) who looked and spoke to her with tenderness in the fold of his words.

“It’s your turn now.” She conceded, quietly. She herself was prepared at whatever he’s going to throw at her. She had nothing to hide. “That’s how the game works. I asked a question, you asked me a question in turn, and back to me, and so on and so forth.” 

“Interesting.” He remarked, and Candy’s mental image flashed back to the old-timey villains in the cartoons she watched when she was a child. “Well, let’s see.” She prepared herself mentally. “Are you still going back to the Hereafter?”

She should have known that he was going to ask that, and she was prepared for anything else, but that still surprised her. She took a moment to gather herself before answering.

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly, meeting his gaze straight on. “At first, that was what I’m going to do. I thought that it was time anyway. But now…I wasn’t so sure anymore.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged. “I guess there’s a selfish part of me who wants to stay.”

He was quiet. Candy readied herself for his judgment, and she said it herself. It was selfish of her for wanting to stay. But that is how she truly feels, and if Carrion’s going to judge her for that, well, she was ready for that.

“If you _are_ staying,” He finally said, cautiously, and Candy recognised the tone – it was the one he used back in Huffaker, when he told her that she’d made a lot of powerful enemies. He was about to say something important, and she wondered what. She waited for him to finish drawing out his words. “Be careful." 

Now her curiosity was tickled. She cannot contain it.

“Why?” She inquired, forever searching his expression for some clue, about anything, everything. And it always betrayed her.

“The Council has started to take notice of you,” He warned, leaning forward. “And they don’t really liked what they saw.”

“Is it about the Babilonium fiasco? Because I promised I wouldn’t do such a thing again.”

“Not just that. There are rumours.”

She knew they were threading on dangerous waters here. She pressed forward.

“Rumours about what?” She asked, although there is a sinking feeling in her stomach, an implicit realisation that she knew what he’s talking about. A part of her didn’t want to hear the answer to her question, but another part of her wanted confirmation.

“Rumours that you were involved with the Twenty-Fifth Hour. The Time Out of Time.”

She can’t quite interpret the look upon his face, but she fathomed that he was the one searching her expression now. Was he looking for the truth, or a lie? Candy can’t be quite sure.

“How did they hear that?”

“The Council has eyes and ears everywhere,” He shrugged, a gesture that strikes her as strange and out-of-place, because of its casualness in the seriousness of their conversation. “And so am I.”

“So?" 

“So it’s best if you lay low for a while, Candy.”

She doesn’t quite know what to do with this. She neither confirmed nor deny the ‘rumours’, as he called it, because she realised that her involvement with Odom’s Spire was something that she shouldn’t tell anyone about, not even her friends, and especially not Carrion. They might have a more amicable relationship now, but that doesn’t mean she trusted him. A part of her (the _foolish_ part, she thought, the part that got her into trouble with Deborah Hackbarth and co.) wanted to trust him so badly, but she couldn’t afford to do so. Not just yet.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” She finally asked, regaining her composure and suppressed her marvel at the fact that Christopher Carrion had just helped her, voluntarily. That was surprising.

“Don’t attract any attention,” She wanted so bad to counter that, because no, she wasn’t attracting any attention, wanted or not, but he glared at her, and somehow she immediately shut up (she wondered if that is also magic, the ability to make people shut up with just a glare). “Maybe get a haircut.”

His last remark was so sudden, so out of place, that Candy burst out laughing. She let herself laugh for what feels like a good five minutes before shaking the amusement off and putting back her serious face.

“Do you think my current hair is so bad that you’ve suggested that I cut it?”

“It’s untamed. You looked feral.” She laughed again at that. Candy Quackenbush, feral girl from the Hereafter. Now that’s something that the Babilonium didn’t have. “And you looked too much like somebody that I used to know.”

She detected that hint again, that hint of sadness and tenderness and love long lost. She couldn’t help but _stare_ , couldn’t help but become transfixed by it. He noticed and immediately looked away again.

“I think I’ll do just that,” She said with a smile, sensing that he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Get a haircut, laying low for a while. Yeah, I guess I can do that.” Silence falls again between them, as it always did. “Thanks…for the tip.”

“You’re welcome.”

Awkward silence. Unconsciously, Candy reached out for her glass, and was rather surprised to find that it’s quite empty. She put it back on the table.

“Well…it’s my turn now.” He nodded at her, signaling her to continue. Candy allowed a moment to pass before revealing her question. “Favourite colour?”

He looked so surprised, it’s almost funny. It seems they were on equal footing when it comes to surprising each other. Candy was satisified with this, at least. She wanted to laugh, but on second thought decided against it, and settled with a light snort instead.

“Why do you always have to ask the strangest questions?”

“It’s not a strange question!” She exclaimed, probably a little _too_ colourfully, judging from Carrion’s expression. It had shifted from mildly surprised and probably a little offended, to momentarily absurd, as if she had not just grown a second head, but also wings and a halo (not the strangest thing in the Abarat, really, all things considered). “It’s a _standard question_.”

“Standard in the Hereafter, maybe.”

“How many parties have you attended in the past?” She contested. “One? Two? _None_?”

“That was _two_ questions.” He looked similarly riled up as well, and they were glaring daggers at each other from their respective table ends. As if this was a matter of life and death. Ha! Candy wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to laugh, punch Carrion in the face, or just walked away and never looked back. If only it was that simple. “You can’t have both, you greedy girl.”

“Frugal with your answers, aren’t you?” She jabbed. Candy felt the familiar flash of annoyance that so colours their relationship (she’s not quite certain what it _is_ , but it is there, unfortunately), and she had to calm herself down. Had she known that he was going to be _this_ difficult, she’d have stopped trying since the beginning. Maybe she should have supposed to just let him be. Why did their life intersect so? And why did she felt like…she felt like there was something _more_ in it, something she cannot quite put a finger on just yet, but something bigger than both of them? ( _Love can be the best thing in your life, honey, or it can be the worst_ , Norma Lipnik had told her, one chilly spring day, _the absolute worst_. Was it love, then? Candy wasn’t sure. Candy wasn’t sure with anything, and right now she wanted nothing more but to turn away and leave.)

“You would be, if you were in my position. Not everyone had the privilege to speak so freely about themselves.” His response, or the tone in which it was delivered both chilled and angered her, as if she was doused in a water so cold, it burns. But a realization dawned on her.

“That was the prince speaking, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“The prince. You act all high and mighty, as if nothing in the world can touch you. As if nothing in the world can change you, even from _within_. But…” Her expression softened, and somehow, somehow, Candy no longer felt infuriated, or angry. Instead, she felt that she’d _understood_. The picture that was Christopher Carrion was getting clearer, the pieces falling into place. “But that’s not who you really are. At least, that’s not the you I wanted to _know_.”

Silence. Candy was ready to leave, was ready for the worst, even. Although she haven’t seen his infamous temper firsthand, she’d heard of it, and seen enough glimpses of it that she was prepared. She didn’t blame or pity herself for getting into this situation; instead, she felt rather proud of herself for voicing that out loud. She felt _relieved_ , most of all, a strange relief that filled every inch of her body and curiously feels like light.

“Who was the ‘me’ that you wanted to know, Candy?” His sudden, _civil_ response shocked her, to say at the least, but it was his tone that surprised her more. He was speaking in that oddly soft tone that she’d heard before, and it was so quiet that it almost drowned in the noise of the silence that surrounds them. “If you expected to find someone kind, someone nice and decent that will whisper to you sweet nothings and humour you with silly jokes, then you’ve come to the wrong person. I’m no such person. I’m not a hero. I’m not good or nice. I think of the world in black and white, and I put the interests of Midnight – and myself – first. I’m not a good person. I’d murder an innocent if that means furthering my goals.”

That was probably the most words she’d ever heard out of Carrion’s mouth, and the most shocking as of yet. The full weight of it hasn’t sink in yet, but Candy already felt a numbness spreading from the pit of her stomach. She leaned back on her chair, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

“Surprised, aren’t you? Well, let me tell you this.” He wasn’t done just yet, and she increasingly feels as if she was watching a movie, that she was a disembodied third entity that happened to be watching this conversation unfold. “I murdered someone I love, because I cannot stand to watch her be with somebody else, whom she’d chosen over me. I killed her at the day of her wedding.”

She felt sick to the stomach now. She felt as if she’d heard the tale somewhere before, in a different version, but the essence remained the same. A shadow falls between them, and she cannot, would not, find anything to say. She reached deep within herself to find some unused sympathy, but she could find none. She felt pity, but not to the killer.

“Why did you do it?” She finally found her words back, and her tongue. Her voice felt curiously quiet in her own ears, like his voice. The thought made her shudder.

“I told you, she-“

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She cuts him off, forcefully. She knew he wouldn’t like it but Candy doesn’t care. “I mean, why did you do it, _really_?”

A long silence follows, and Candy was glad that somewhere between her noting that her glass was empty and the trainwreck this conversation is turning into, it had been refilled. She gladly drank the water.

“Have you ever been in love, Candy? A love so deep and unforgiving that there is no going back, only a slow path towards ruination?” She shook her head. She’d dated boys, read about love, heard people talk about it, but she herself had never known love. At least, not in the way that Carrion had described it.

“That is what it was with her.” He said, and a tinge of sadness had crept into his voice. “A complete destruction. Love cannot be measured in time, only in collateral damage.” She lets him continue, knowing, deep in her heart, that he was baring a part of his soul that nobody else had seen. It was a crevice and Candy was tumbling over the edge, a hungry chasm and she was falling fast into the heart of it.

“I loved her but she did not love me back. Instead, she used me. But I was too blinded by love to see. In the end, she chose somebody else, and I was left alone, again. So I killed her.” A pause. She couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes. “I thought…I thought that it would lessen the pain. But it didn’t. Her ghost was still with me. And you…you reminded me of her.”

The last part hits her harder than the rest. _You reminded me of her_. Candy was often at loss of words during her travels in the Abarat, and needless to say, Carrion had an almost unlimited capacity to surprise her, but she was never as speechless as she was _now_. This was unprecedented, unexpected. And the conflicting feelings raging inside her was…

“I reminded you of her.” That was the only thing she could manage to say. Both her tongue and her body felt like lead, and where a moment ago she could feel a storm of raging emotions, now she only felt a vast numbness within her. As if she’d swallowed the void whole. As if she was no longer Candy Quackenbush, but a duplicate that was playing that part in a movie of her life.

“Candy-“

“I’m leaving.” She announced, more forcefully than she thought she could (even though she still feels numb), and abruptly stood up. She saw a flicker of concern in his eyes, but found that she couldn’t care. She just wanted to get out of here as fast as she could, and as far away as she could manage. She wanted to get out of his sight, wanted to get out of his company, wanted to get him _off_. He was a stain and he lives in her, lives in her now, and that realisation makes her sick.

As if reading her mind (and she hoped that he could, oh, how she hoped he really could, _now_ ), he didn’t try to stop her. She walked, no, _ran_ out of the room, of the house, of his life, and he didn’t try to stop her.

Only when she was in the safety of her own walls did she allowed herself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris, you are an asshole and you should feel ashamed of yourself. Then again, it should be obvious that sooner or later he's going to make her cry :| anyways, rest assured, folks, I haven't forgotten about the Twenty-Fifth Hour. And I made a little mistake in the timeline of this AU - Chris should have been in his mid-twenties, not late twenties, since Boa died (well, was murdered) five years ago. Sorry about that. I'm going to eat some chocolates now, writing that entire thing hurts my heart.


	7. You caught the light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She smiled, like the sun. The fire inside him exploded, and he would be ashes by the time it was done. // Their sixth meeting was situated in the island of Gnomon, and it's not accidental. The last one might be a disaster and a trainwreck, but Carrion wanted to talk to Candy still, wanted to let his ghosts rest. She had some questions for him, in turn...and they have lot of things to address. Last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this fic yet. I was just having a rough week, and a mini writer's block. Undoubtedly, this was the hardest chapter to write, so I apologise in advance about it. Chapter title from CHVRCHES's [You Caught the Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CbNA2uP054). Other songs to listen to while reading this chapter: [Clarity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPHhNuSdrYE) & [Collar Full](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk).

It wasn’t supposed to end that way, he realised. 

Candy’s intentions had been perfectly innocent, unblemished, and – he daresay – _noble_. She wanted to know him better. She wanted to – the thought made him want to laugh – _befriend_ him. He’d no idea why he encouraged this dangerous thinking, or why he nurtured these lethal delusions of hers. Suppose they become friends, and then _what_? 

He doesn’t want to be her friend. Pensively, Christopher Carrion understood that he wanted something more, hungry for more than just that. He knew that the monster called love (oh, the word his crazed grandmother had forbid him to say, and he’d only been rescued from her wrath by the virtue of his father’s proximity) inside him had been awakened. It was a dangerous game they’re playing, vying closer and closer to the abyss. Yet the girl from Hereafter doesn’t seem to realise the deadly consequences, nor does she fathom that she was playing with fire. 

He remembered a certain book, a kind of literature, from the Hereafter that he’d found in the library, in his mother’s private collection. It was about a girl who followed a white rabbit, fell down a hole and ended up in another world. He doesn’t remember much about the story itself, because he was too fascinated by the very notion of his now deceased mother reading this book, a long time ago, and the fact that the humans of Hereafter had conjured all sorts of fantastical worlds, long before they had any idea that the Abarat existed. However, he was left with a vague impression that the girl in the story was brave, but also unnecessarily reckless. The entire trouble with the Red Queen could have been avoided, should she chose to stay in her own world.

The girl, he uncomfortably realised, reminded him very much of a certain Candy Quackenbush.

He quickly shook himself free from such thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about her, nor was he supposed to space out like that. There was much paperwork to be done, as always, and there are always things to read and consider, approve or reject, not to mention the endless streams of letters and missives. Ruling is both a tiring and thankless job, and he wasn’t inclined to trust other people to do his job.

He’d only written one line (a reply to the Matriarch of Yzil, politely declining her invitation to attend her baby shower – baby shower, who does she think he _is_?), when thoughts of her returned to his mind. Images of her - Candy, laughing; Candy, smiling; Candy, looking perplexed over one Abaratian thing or another; Candy, doing that thing she does with her nose every time she was annoyed at him – came unbidden, and he felt incredibly annoyed but terribly amused at once.

Of course, Carrion felt a certain attraction towards her, or at least an absurd amount of curiosity, and to him, she was both mad and marvelous, turning not just the Abarat upside down, but also his life. At first he was certain that it was love, that she was the second chance – _his_ second chance – at not just love, but also life, maybe, and Providence sent her to him to make it right, but as time progresses…he doesn’t quite know why, but he’s not so certain anymore. She was _something_ , that’s for sure. But whether she’s love, obsession, second chance, or even redemption, is still yet unknown. 

He felt the deepest need to call her, and it bothered him.

In fact, the thought has been sitting in the back of his mind for weeks, now. He has little love or use for technology, and he’d rather avoid using them when he can, but he’d saved her number from the parallel parking episode (it was selfish for him to do so, he knew) and he’d been wanting to give her a call for a while now. He wanted to see how she’s doing, and…hear her voice again. He’d had no idea how much he missed her disruptions until he lost her like this.

That is, assuming that she still wanted to talk to him. After hearing his confession in their last (disastrous) encounter, and after seeing the expression on her face…not to mention running away like that, he’s not sure if she wanted to see him ever again, much less talk to him. It was a bad move on his part, he knew. But he was rattled by how brazen she was, how dauntlessly she’d scaled the wall he’d built to keep the rest of the world out. And she made some rather…acute observations, too, he’d to admit. He’d never met anyone like her before. Maybe Candy reminded her of the Princess, but their resemblance stopped at their looks.

The girl had a genuinely good heart, unlike the Princess Boa. If she does love him in return, and if it’s indeed love, this strange simmering thing between them, then would he be able to preserve it, gave her what she deserved?

He scowled at himself for a fraction of a second. He thought about this too much. Maybe he should just give her a call and see what happens.

Three rings passed before she picked up.

“Hello?” Candy answered, with only the slightest hint of wariness in her voice. It’s normal, he thought, she didn’t know his number.

“Candy,” He said, trying hard to keep his voice normal, and really hoping that she didn’t end the connection right then and there. “It’s me.”

There was a period of silence from the other end, but just when he’d surrendered all hope, and was convinced that she’s going to end the call, she responded.

“Why are you calling me?” Maybe the part that hurt the most was her carefully neutral tone. There was no hint of accusation, no angry tirades, nothing. It’s just both of them on the line, but she was the one who’s putting up defenses now.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, but,” He paused for a moment, trying to get it right, at least this once in his life. “Not after last time.” He cringed at his own mention of their last meeting, and he imagined she did the same, at the other side. But he quickly regained his composure, and continued.

“But I need to talk to you.”

Carrion was met with another silence. This wasn’t how he imagined it to be. He’d forecasted angry tirades, verbal jabs, or perhaps even just a click, of the line being disconnected from the other side. But he wasn’t expecting her silence.

“Please.” He swallowed the last of his pride. “If you don’t want to see me again after that, it’s fine. I just need to talk to you one last time." 

He doubted that it’s going to be really fine on his part, but he had no intention of giving her the same end as the Princess, despite the threats he’d made at the beginning. She was different, for one…and he was much too fond of her to even consider doing that. Too fond, for his own good. She’d hurt him, too, yes, but in different ways, and somehow he still had hope that it could all be fixed. Fool’s hope.

“Okay, I’m listening.” She said, not one second too soon. He breathed a sigh of relief, silently. She added, tentatively: “I have some…questions for you, too.”

“Then meet me in Gnomon, near the ruins of the circular temple of A’zo. I’ll text you the details.”

She gave him her assent and he ended the call. After it was done and over with, he breathed another sigh of relief. Candy had agreed to meet him. Of course, it’s hardly a conclusion; if anything, it’s a _start_. She’d sounded reluctant over the phone, and it looks like she’s going to need a lot of convincing.

Or maybe, considering what she said in the last meeting, maybe he just needs to be _himself_. Though _how_ , he had no idea yet.

* * *

She was already there when he arrived. The ruins were deserted, the vestigial remains of the temple a reminder of what once had been. The Age of the Gods, he’d read, where gods walked amongst the denizens of Abaratians, sometimes unnoticed…he doesn’t put much stock into it, but it was an interesting notion. If there are any gods at all, be it the Christian God from the Hereafter or the differing deities from the Abaratian pantheon, they were certainly quiet nowadays. Even the Izabella wasn’t as fierce as She used to be, some of his household servants whispered.

It took a certain amount of convincing (and a little bribery) to have this space for themselves, but pulling strings is what he does for a living, and it certainly pays off.

She was looking at one half-ruined pillar or another, perhaps admiring it, or perhaps wondering about how it must have looked like in the glorious and distant past. He stopped several distance away from her, uncertainty creeping in. But he wouldn’t let it be the master of him.

“Candy,” He called out, rather tentatively perhaps. She jumped slightly at the sound of her name, looking nervously over her shoulder, then relaxed for a bit when she realised that it was him.

“Oh, it’s you. I thought…it was someone else.” The set of her shoulders was still tense, he noticed, even as she turned around to face him.

“Who?” He inquired, conversationally. He didn’t specify that she should come alone because he assumed she understood, but if she’s bringing someone else with her…

“Nobody. I was just reading the _Almenak_ earlier and…you know.” She hesitated for a bit, and then admitted sheepishly. “Ghosts.”

“The Almenak isn’t to be taken as truth.” He can’t help but smiled a bit, mentally, at that. Maybe it helped her relax, too, but one moment later she was wary again. “There are no ghosts here." 

“Yeah, well.” She shrugs. “It’s better to be prepared.”

“If you’re looking for ghosts, maybe you should go to Qualm Hah instead.”

They were both avoiding the elephant in the room, he knows. For one second she looked mildly interested in what he said about Qualm Hah, but she must have realised about this too, because she didn’t say anything else about it. Silence suddenly descended between them, and it’s more oppressive than the ghastly emptiness surrounding them. Long silences was an essential part of Carrion’s life; he’s not much of a people person (to put it mildly), and most people are either terrified of him, his reputation, his family name, or his wicked grandmother, or even all of it altogether, and thus, he’d learnt from an early age that he couldn’t rely on other people for company. So he sought the company of himself (not the best or most pleasant person, but he’s all he had), silence, and books, instead.

“So…” He started, because he can’t stand the silence anymore, or the ‘gaping awkwardly at each other’ part.

“So?” She looked at him expectantly. He felt uncertainty creeping in again. 

“Come walk with me,” He said, finally. “I’ll take you around the ruins, and…we’ll talk.”

It’s a win-win situation, he figured. There’s really not much to see in the ruins, but there are plenty around, and if she’s interested in them, the least he can do was to show her around (and keep her distracted for a bit). He doesn’t know where this sudden bout of generosity came from. He doesn’t know, either, why he wanted to show her Midnight from afar, in the North Shore of the island. (An as-of-yet acknowledged part of him fathomed that he wanted to come clean to her. It’s not an easy thing, living with so much secrets eating away at your heart and soul. However, it’s the only way to live, or, at least, the only way Carrion knows how to live his life.)

“Sounds like a plan,” She agreed, but then hesitated. He knew that there’s something she haven’t said yet, so he waited patiently. “But just a little warning. If you hurt me in any form…” Her eyes were ablaze, all of a sudden, with a fire from within. “My friends will _kill_ you." 

He laughed at that. Not a full-throat laughter like she always did, but a chuckle. Despite that, he felt, somehow, as if it echoed in the ruins, reverberating with power and infusing their surroundings with a life of its own. (Maybe their presence here has reinvigorated it, he thought. _Maybe_.)

“Stupid, stupid girl.” He shook his head, as if batting the amusement he felt away. Perhaps he said it with more fondness than he should have. “If I want to hurt you, I’ve had a lot of chance to do that already. No, rest assured, I wouldn’t hurt you. I just want to talk.”

“If you say so,” She responded, visibly relaxing. He can’t help but be interested in that, the slightest of gesture: she _trusted_ him, at least a little now. That certainly is a notable development. “As I said…I do have some questions for you, too.”

“And I believe this is the time and place to get them addressed.”

To his surprise, he was perfectly sincere about that. It seemed as if she could sense it, or perhaps hear it in his voice, because Candy took a step, and then two, towards him, her doubts and suspicion seemed to have melted away bit by bit with every step she took. He didn’t wait for her, however, instead opting to walk ahead. Christopher Carrion wasn’t very keen on waiting.

“Wait up!” She called out, after a few steps. “How are we going to talk if you’re going to leave me behind?”

He stopped at that, looking her up and down. It’s yet another thing that he’s uncertain about, at least the exact cause of it, but he suddenly felt a little mischievous. When she caught up with him, she was already panting a little, and she scowled at him.

“I do apologise, I forgot you had such short legs.” He taunted, giving her his smug look.

“Hey!” She protested in return, rather vigorously. “It’s not my fault you’re really tall. One more step, and you’re already in the Hereafter.”

“Well, being ‘really tall’ had its advantages.”

“Yes, yes, Your Smugness. Whatever you said.” He could have slowed down to match her pace, but he was having too much fun at her expense, truth be told. She gave him another scowl, huffing angrily.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Only then he did slow down, not because she called him a jerk (he’d been called worst, mostly behind his back), but rather because they have now reached the second ruin near the temple. There’s only a crumbling statue and a couple of pillars left, so there’s not much to see. But Candy took an interest in it, anyway. He let her do her thing (ogling, like the tourist she is) and patiently answered her questions. Only when she seemed to be done does she breached the topic.

“You really did murder her, didn’t you?”

There’s not a hint of accusation in her sudden question, just a quiet resignation. She doesn’t even look at him as she asked it, but rather, she had her back to him. Carrion wasn’t sure how he felt about this.

“Well…yes. What else is there to say? She’s dead, Candy.”

Somehow, there is an alien feeling swelling inside his chest. Something like guilt, maybe, or shame. Or perhaps it was the full realisation that he’d extinguished someone’s life, and then washed his hands clean of it. But why does it bother him so _much_? He’d done that before. In fact, he’d done just that many times before. He wouldn’t have a famed assassin as his right-hand man otherwise. The Princess was no different. He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t personal.

He failed.

“Let’s go to the next one,” She declared, leading the way. He’d wanted to point out to her that it’s the wrong way, they weren’t supposed to go that way, not yet. But he fell behind several steps behind her, and he had no intention to catch up with her, or to walk beside her. She doesn’t seem like she wanted that. In fact, for the next several minutes, he doesn’t exist to her, it seems. And it was a torture unto itself, a torture that he couldn’t bear, but he couldn’t break, either, for fear of angering her further. (He wanted to laugh at the thought of him being afraid of angering her, of course. It was a preposterous and impossible notion, had she’d been someone else. But she was _Candy_ , and strangely…he doesn’t want her to be mad at him, not anymore. He yearned for her _approval_. Now that’s something new.)

“I couldn’t ever forgive you for doing that,” She said, suddenly, turning on her heels to face him. The look in her eyes was hard, he noticed, hard and merciless. He’d never seen that look on her before, never thought it would grace her features. It felt like he was looking at a very strange mirror, at a different version of himself. “Even if she’s used you. Murder is always wrong. But maybe…” She turned away again, hiding her softening expression. He waited, expectant.

“Maybe you deserve a second chance. Even you.”

He wanted to hear that, dying to hear those words spoken from her lips, but he’d never thought…he’d never thought that the day would come to pass. A part of him couldn’t believe her, _wouldn’t_ believe her, of course, the black, poisonous part of him that whispers _treason_ and _lies_ wherever he goes. It is the reason why he saw only vipers everywhere.

He’d given his trust once, and he was betrayed. But he wanted to trust her, and he wondered, always wondered, if she felt the same way, or if it’s just him. If she didn’t care about him as much as he cared about her.

“You’re my second chance,” He admitted, with much difficulty. It must be to her surprise, because when she dared to face him again, her eyes were wide. “At least, I thought so, at first. But then…”

“Then what?” Her tone was surprisingly gentle, like the slow procession of clouds in the clear blue sky of the Day islands. All of a sudden, he found it even harder to look Candy in the eye.

“I’m not so sure anymore.” He conceded, directing his gaze anywhere else but to her. _Things have changed_ , he understood, and it was moving far too fast for him to comprehend. They’ve come far from where they started, in a span of weeks, a couple of chance encounters, and a handful of islands. Where are they standing now? It feels as if he was standing in a quicksand, and the more he struggled, the more it pulls him deeper and deeper into its belly.

At his admittance, she looked disappointed, he thought, and perhaps hurt. Why? What was she expecting? Wasn’t that a good thing, he doesn’t see her as a second chance anymore? She was more than that; that was one thing that Carrion was certain about. She deserves better.

“The Universe has a way of bringing people together, you said.” He pressed on, quietly. “Maybe it was meant to be so much more than that.”

Strangely, he found himself at least half-believing that silly and childish notion. Perhaps, just this once, there was something bigger behind it than chance and accident. He wouldn’t call it _fate_ , per se…but perhaps their meeting had been pre-arranged. By whom, he could care less. He only cares about the _why_.

“If there’s something about the Universe that I’ve learnt, is that it doesn’t always work in your favour.”

She looked pensive, withdrawing to her shell. He was left to ponder over and interpret the meaning behind her words on his own, as she offered no further explanation, and instead continued trekking up the path through the lightly forested area that will led to the North Shore of the island. He’d no choice but to follow her in silence.

She doesn’t seem to be bothered of not knowing where she was going, nor does she exhibit any signs of incoming inquiry, so Carrion stayed quiet about it. Halfway through, she stopped again.

“I’ve reminded you of her, am I?”

“Yes,” He admitted, not having anything to hide. Not anymore. “In a way.”

“What was she like?” She had that searching expression on her face again. It was something about her that both attracts and annoys him at the same time – the always searching, always probing part of her. Candy Quackenbush would never let a matter rest, until she had all the answers, or at least until her curiosity was satisfied. She was a seeker, and from the first time he laid eyes on her, he knew that she was searching for something, in the Abarat. People who traveled for a long period of time often do.

“She was…beautiful.” He said after a period of silence, fumbling for words. He doesn’t want to remember her, and even as he talked about her painful memories of her began to surface, as if her ghost had somehow conjured it out of his depths. As if her ghost itself was torturing him, laughing at him. “Confident. You could say sophisticated. She always knows what to say, and to whom. In that capacity, she’s manipulative. We’re all falling like flies at her feet. And even after she dies…well, it’s _always_ my fault, is it?”

He couldn’t deny that he was still bitter over it. She’s been dead for five years, maybe, but the hurt she’d left would stay with him forever. In return, Candy looked oddly concerned, as if she _cares_ about him, and perhaps…even the slightest bit pitiful. He looked away. Her pity is not what he wants.

“Would you…let her ghost rest?”

Her inquiry silenced him. Would _he_? The one person whom he’d deemed worthy of his trust, whom he’d deemed worthy of his love…the woman who’d betrayed him. The thoughts swum in his mind like his nightmares in their tank, back in the Twelfth Tower.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not." 

She was silent for a while, perhaps assessing his answer.

“What’s the point of being beautiful, if you’re rotten on the inside?”

Her innocent remark, the fierce conviction of it…somehow, it made him feel curiously lighter. As if a small fire had been kindled in the dark crevices inside of him.

“I’m not saying that what you did to her is justified in any way, but…” She shrugs, looking away. “She’s not a good person, if you ask me.”

 _But so am I_ , he wanted to say, yet he bit his tongue and kept it to himself. He’d done nothing but bad things in his life, had done nothing but hurt others and built a wall so nobody could ever hurt him in return, but her simple remark…the Princess’s ghost was still there, he felt, and she’d probably remained with him, but he felt…not absolved. _Better_. Curiously at peace, even if only a little.

“Do you always have this effect on people?”

Now that the tension between them has shimmered down a little, he felt more relaxed, and he led the way up the path once more. She soon falls into step beside him.

“What effect?” She asked, incredulously, perhaps with the slightest hint of a blush. She seemed to be blissfully and completely unaware of the sort of effect that she had on him. 

“You made people feel as if…” He struggled to find the right words. What he was trying to describe, he felt, was larger than words, and words would not do it any justice, but he must make do with the approximation of it. “As if they’re worth it.”

“Oh,” She remarked, and her cheeks reddened. He quickly looked away, unconsciously pacing faster until he realised that he was supposed to wait for her. She doesn’t protest, though, and has rather…stopped again on her tracks. He did the same, waiting for her to fall back into step with him, but she remained rooted where she was. He wasn’t the only one with troubling emotions, it seems, judging from Candy’s expression.

“It’s just that…I never thought about it that way. But when you put it that way…” She faltered, and then smiled. Her smile lit up the rather bleak surroundings, he felt. “I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, and happiness.”

She looked like she was about to say something more, to impart a piece of personal history to him, or a secret, but in the end decided against it. Instead, she started walking towards him, looking noticeably happier (which made something came to life in a riot of colour and fluttered around in the pit of his stomach, but of course he wouldn’t admit that). 

“Where are we going? I don’t see anymore ruins.”

He gave her a small smile, motioning towards the peak. The trek was almost at its end. The forested area has led to a clearing, and the path snakes upwards in a gentle slope. The sounds of the ocean are as loud and clear as the day, beckoning them towards it.

(Here, Carrion felt the strangest urge to take her by the hand and lead her to the peak, but he quickly shook it off. What was he thinking? It’s not as if…as if they were _lovers_. The thought itself almost made him blush. He certainly hoped that it didn’t show.)

“See for yourself.”

She did just that, quickening her steps and bypassing him at the slope where he waited. He couldn’t see her face once she was up at the peak, but she gasped audibly, and he assumed that the sight must have impressed her. He went after her.

“Haven’t you been to Gnomon before?” He stopped by her side, following her gaze. The view was indeed sweeping – the sapphire blue waters of the sea of Izabella roaring below, crashing at the cliff they were standing on; seabirds wheeling at the sky, occasionally diving down to catch some fish; the faint afternoon light in the soft blue sky; and, in the distance, across the Straits of Limbo, an island wreathed in red mist, its sheer black cliffs rivaling Gnomon’s in size.

Strangely, Carrion felt as if his life, his entire life, was precipitating towards this moment. Him and Candy, standing on this cliff, the Hour of Midnight visible in the distance. It was by far the oddest feeling he’d felt, even around her, and he couldn’t quite shake it off. She remained quiet for a while, even after his question, presumably awed by the view.

“No, not yet. Haven’t had the chance to.” She finally deigned to answer, her gaze still fixed at some distant point beyond the shore. “It’s…beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“There’s only one Abarat, Candy.”

She seemed to have recognised what he was referring to, and gave him a slight smile.

“I liked Huffaker, too.” She turned her gaze into the distant horizon, where the Island of Gorgossium sits in the gloom of the night; lonely, majestic, mysterious. “That’s Midnight, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” He answered. “You can’t really see anything from this distance, but it is.”

“I’d love to go there someday,” She remarked, glancing at him, perhaps testing the waters. “If that’s okay with you.”

Every part of him screamed _yes_ , but his brains still hold the reins. He wanted her to be in Midnight, wanted to show her his childhood hiding places and the nooks and crannies of it. He wanted her to stay with him, if not there then anywhere else, forever. However, the still rational part of him remembered why he expressly forbid her from stepping foot in there, much less talked about it.

“No,” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. My grandmother had spies everywhere. She’ll find out, and she’d want to know.”

It is Gorgossium’s worst kept secret, at this point. The knowledge that his grandmother’s spies are everywhere, that is, not the spies itself. He’d taken it upon himself to root them out whenever he can, with the help of his right-hand man and a couple of others, but there’s always one or two bugs, hiding, watching from the shadows. It’s a game they’ve been playing since he’d come of age – this peculiar version of hide-and-seek, him hiding his secrets and Motley ferreting them out. He’d no idea if his father played the same game with her.

“About what?” She looked genuinely confused, and concerned, as well. The meaning of his words was completely lost on her. “What’s there to know? I’m just another girl from the Hereafter.”

She was not just another girl, he wanted to point out. There are plenty of girls in the Hereafter, but he was rather certain that none of them could cause so much mischief and marvel in her wake as her. She was part Abaratian, he realised, if not in blood, then in spirit. But a much urgent issue occupies Carrion’s attention, and he doesn’t quite know how to break it to Candy without sounding…rather awkward, to say at the least, about it.

“About us.” He said, finally, trying to keep both the tone of his voice and his expression neutral. “She’d want to know about our…relationship." 

His grandmother must have caught wind of it, one way or another. She might be confined to her Tower, but she still had eyes and ears everywhere. And people _talk_. That is what he hated the most about them.

At that, he thought that he’d seen another blush, but she quickly turned away from him, walking away for a bit, to the other end of the narrow cliff. The wind seemed to pick up speed.

“What is there to know?” Candy said, her eyes now cast to the sea beneath them. The waves of Izabella were still crashing relentlessly, carving the rocks with Her force. “We’re friends, aren’t we? …Now? Or…”

He didn’t try to finish her sentence, or correct her. For a while, there’s only the wind and the waves, howling and crashing and howling and crashing. The seabirds screeched in the distance.

“Do you really think that’s what we are?”

His gaze alighted at her back, still turned towards him. She seemed to stiffen for a moment after he delivered the question, but she quickly regained her composure.

“I don’t know.” Her tone was strangely quiet, mirroring his. She was down on her knees, looking for rocks. Or seashells, he cannot be sure. Though she probably wouldn’t find any if it’s the latter, since they were so high up. Perhaps the sea might have met this cliff once, but it was a long, long time ago.

“I’ve always thought that you hated me,” She continued. He watched her with a quiet fascination that always seemed to overcome him whenever Candy was around, as if he’d just seen the stars for the first time. “With the way you were always so standoffish with me, and stuff. And the murder threats. I couldn’t understand you. But then I realised that there’s more to you than that.”

She seemed to have acquired a collection of small rocks. She straightened herself up, and began throwing them, one by one, into the sea. He remained there, quietly, not knowing what he should do, or say.

“I hated you at first too, you know.” She confessed, rather awkwardly, still not looking at him. “You annoyed me. I’ve never met anyone that annoys me so much in the Abarat. You definitely take the cake. But then…”

She threw her last stone, a bit larger than the rest, into the waters. It bobbled up for a bit before disappearing into the depths. He’d fancied that something appeared out of the blue, a monster straight out of Izabella’s belly, but nothing happened. They were the only people alive for miles, it seems…and the wind howls and screeches like a mother searching for her lost child.

“Then _something_ happened. I don’t know what. I guess we’re friends,” She paused, looking thoughtful. “I guess we’re _not_ friends. I don’t know.”

She admitted it as if it was no big deal for her, her eyes cast elsewhere. But he knows that it’s not, that she was sharing her true feelings towards him. After,  another period of silence falls between them, longer than the rest. She resumed her activity of gathering small stones and then throwing them into the sea. He’d opted to avert his gaze and turned it towards his Island instead, in the distance. At this distance, it almost looked beautiful; the red mists wrapping it like a gruesome blanket. Nothing was visible except maybe the top of the Towers every now and then, and maybe glimpses of houses, too tiny to make out. 

At this distance, it almost looked _harmless_.

He entertained the foolish notion with a private smile. It’s a nest of rabid mantizacs, to say at the least…and although he’d grown up there, and came to love the Towers and the forest and the sheer black cliffs, its secrets and its horrors, he was only scratching the surface. There are things in the island that even the Lord of Midnight didn’t know about, and he know it in him that some mysteries are best left undisturbed.

“What do you think?” She suddenly asked, interrupting his reverie. 

“What?”

She seemed to have found her courage back, or whatever it is, because she’d stopped her impromptu rock gathering (and throwing) and rubbed her hands on her trousers. She had that rather feral expression in her face again, tempered with the sort of odd gentleness that so far he’d only seen in one particular Candy Quackenbush (though he had little dealings and use of gentleness in his life, and he doesn’t know other Candy Quackenbushes). It was a frankly startling expression, but she was probably the only one who can managed the paradoxical combination.

“Us.” She gave him a small smile, an encouraging one, perhaps, to him as much as it is for herself, but the cold fingers of doubt has regained its grip over Carrion’s heart. The question that she asked him was the question he’d asked himself a thousand times before in the privacy of his thoughts, and yet he still failed to come up with an answer, every single time. 

“I don’t know.” He gave her the only answer that he knows best. “I…suppose we’re not friends. But something else.”

No longer enemies, not yet friends. Now they were not quite friends, but not quite anything else. He’d no idea of what to call this, but perhaps it’s best if it remained nameless, for the time being. Perhaps in the future they would find out what it was.

“Oh?” It interests her, nevertheless, and her eyes lit up like the setting sun. “And what’s that?”

“That’s the point. I’m not sure.”

A crestfallen look quickly replaced the previous expression, and he felt the slightest pang of guilt.

“That’s not helping,” She frowned, kicking a rock at her feet. “But it’s a start, I guess.”

“Yes, it’s a start.” He agreed. The vista seemed to have lost its magic on Candy, though she still shot a glance at the sweeping view every now and then, and he sensed that it’s probably time to go, soon. Yet, they’re not done here, he knows. There are some things that they have yet to address.

“What about the things you said to me at the ferry?”

The subject brought a whole slew of feelings for him, discomfort most of all. He shifted slightly, but not turning away. Candy probably had found the courage to look into his eyes again, but her question left him feeling vulnerable, perhaps a little ashamed, and he’s not sure if he wanted to face her.

“Well, I’ve apologized, haven’t I? And you have accepted my apology.”

“No, I mean…” She swallowed, hard. She seemed nervous, all of a sudden. “You said…that I’ve caught your attention, and I’ve entered your life, and…my presence won’t left it, no matter what you do.”

She was pacing nervously now, back-and-forth. He found that he shared her anxiety, but he maintained his composure.

“And your _tone_. Do you…like me that much? Did you even see me?” She was very careful with her choice of words, he noticed. He wanted to laugh at _like_. No, he doesn’t simply “liked” her. It was much, much more complicated than that. He was quite sure she understood, but she doesn’t want to, or doesn’t know how to air it properly. “Did you see me, or was it her you see?”

The stunned silence that follows afterwards was filled with anxiety and unborn words. Candy had resorted to fidgeting instead, and Carrion had taken to pacing back-and-forth.

“I see you.” He found the small kindling she’d lit earlier inside of him, and it gave him courage. Maybe this is what sustains her, he thought. “I see you, Candy. Clear as day. The resemblance stopped at the looks.”

He stopped pacing, holding her gaze. Maybe words truly had power, or maybe it was the moment. Whatever the reason, he felt as if he’d seen her for the first time. Truly seen her, in her rumpled and ugly shirt (maybe he loved her, but boy, she had questionable tastes, as most tourists do), with her dark hair now cut short. The Princess had been beautiful, but Candy was more beautiful than her. More than that, she was radiant.

“Then that’s good enough for me.” She gave him one of her smiles, and he felt the fire grows bigger, stronger. “I want you to promise one thing, though.”

The girl declared, pulling her jacket closer, gathering warmth. The wind had picked up rather considerably since they first arrived here, and it’s starting to get cold. She wasn’t dressed warmly enough for the occasion, and she shivered slightly in the cold.

“What is it?”

“Don’t shut me out.” A tinge of sadness coloured her voice. It was the only thing that mattered, _her_. 

She was the sky, and light, and the sea. She was mystery and possibilities, the pull of the tide. Her expressions, words, actions…all of it had an inexplicable effect on him, and on the world around him. The entire Abarat is changing, morphing into something else, a form yet unrevealed, and he sensed that this girl, this ordinary girl, had something to do with it.

He wondered if he had the same power over her, if he had command over her soul as much as she did towards him.

The door to his heart had always been locked and the key thrown away, but she’d always been inside without ever intending to.

“I can’t promise you that,” He replied, gently, against his natural instinct to deny and hide. She was softness and unhurt, the promise of a better day, and he found that he didn’t have it in him to hurt her any further. Where there was cruelty before, now he found only emptiness, but even this emptiness was quickly being filled up by her, and a better version of him.

They were polar opposites, maybe, but light was the oldest game in the world, and darkness was always in love with the light. Light was magic, miracle.

“But I can try.” He promised, with all his heart and soul, and she smiled, like the sun. The fire inside him exploded, and he would be ashes by the time it was done. 

Maybe it’s not much, but it’s a start.

_**FIN** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first finished, multi-chaptered fic. *throws confetti* And I'd just found Beneath the Surface, a companion piece to the series, and it's rather lovely, I might say. If you haven't get it, get it! It's available in Yudu (and ibooks store if you're in US / UK) for only like 9 dollars. I've shamelessly referenced some things from there. That aside, I apologise if this is a little cheesy. This isn't exactly a smooth-sailing pairing, I must say...it's a bit hard to write mindless flulff with them. Chris had a LOT of emotional baggages, and personality-wise, they're not the most compatible. They have a lot of differing and clashing views, as well, and I tried to capture that. I hope I'm not doing a shabby job with them. Anyway, there are several inconsistencies in the first chapter and I've fixed it. I suppose I will continue to polish this fic. Lastly, thank you so much for reading! Every kudos, comments, bookmark, or hits means a lot to me. Goodbye for now! <3


End file.
